


Written in the Lakebed

by birdsaretoddlers



Series: Loose Threads [1]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (Video Games)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood, Drowning, Forced Draft, Gay, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Medieval AU, Slow Burn, Sonic and the Black Knight, Swords, tagging it 'M' because darker themes but tbh i might get away with a T?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 52,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsaretoddlers/pseuds/birdsaretoddlers
Summary: King Arthur won his war. The Grand Kingdom has found peace it never had with Uther Pendragon. What, for an army of knights, comes next? And what for the greatest knight of them all?
Relationships: Gawain (Sonic and the Black Knight)/Percival (Sonic and the Black Knight), King Arthur/Lancelot (Sonic and the Black Knight), Sonic the Hedgehog/Lancelot (Sonic and the Black Knight)
Series: Loose Threads [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869436
Comments: 30
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue ; Beforetimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely NONE of y'all are here for this fandom but y'know what? The horrible brain raccoon that presses buttons in my mind made me wanna write this. It's gay. There's swords in it.

There once was a King, and like most Kings, this King had knights. These knights were paragons of virtue and of the chivalric code they lived by, as was the King himself. The King had fought long and hard to dethrone and dispose of the King before him, and had installed a new order to his world. The days of knights trampling onto battlefields with pike and sword to make footmen bear the brunt of conflict was over. Wars were no longer fought with infantry and serfs. Now, the hobby of the old guard was replaced with honorable combat, upheld by the King's new policy. Might no longer made Right. Now, Might enforced Right. Knights became the lawmen, upholding what was good and just and destroying what was evil. Knights who disobeyed were chased out or slain in duels, as was the custom. The ones who reformed were oftentimes taken into the order of knights who enforced Right with Might, the best knights in the Grand Kingdom. The Round Table, at it's height, was populated with several dozen knights. Men and women, young and old, greenhorns and greybeards, all dedicated to the cause of Right. Every one of them was a good, just, true knight, but one knight stood above them all.

Sir Lancelot Dulac, head of the Round Table and the greatest knight that had ever lived. He had never been unhorsed in a tilt, had defeated every man who came up against him in a duel, and every woman too. With respect to Sir Percival, of course. The dissenters, the Might is Right crowd, claimed that Lancelot was only the 'head' of the Table because of his ties to Arthur. Every one of them was quickly unhorsed in fair combat, and shut up about it. The Round Table was the best thing to happen to the Grand Kingdom in a very, very long time.

* * *

The Round Table were the enforcers of Right, but that did not mean they were constantly out and about, patrolling for danger. During the holidays, when marauders were partying and bandits hustled to their homes, the knights of the Round Table also returned to roost. Three dozen men and women laughing and making merry in the main halls was a sight to behold, the kingdom's finest heroes chanting and waving mugs in the air. Servants scuttled about like church mice to refill flagging flagons and empty the dregs of drink, bringing course upon course onto the tables. Most had long since finished eating, but many were using ham bones and ribs to play at sword fights, and several times it got another peal of laughter from the assorted court and courtesans. The joke was growing stale, like the bread that had been untouched for hours, but it got enough for the jokesters to keep joking.

Not all the knights were present. Ser Gaheris and Sir Agravaine had ventured out weeks before, to spend the merry time with their extended family in the mythical island, where echidna were said to live. They were echidna, for they were brothers of Sir Gawaine, who was in attendance and would never dream of missing an event hosted by King Arthur. Arthur and Gawaine were distant cousins, but that is neither here nor there and really of no consequence at all, save for the fact that the king was also an echidna. A golden echidna, with white fur on his muzzle that extended to a point between his nose and up his forehead. If one titled their head and squinted, it almost looked like the blade of a sword. He also had white on his chest that trekked down to his navel, but given that he was dressed, it wasn't displayed.

His 'companion', at his side, was also dressed. A red tunic and black breeches, his somewhat bold colors were matching his mood. The glower on his face killed any sense of partygoing within ten feet of him, hence why other knights strayed away. Fur brushed to a point sharp enough to cut through a knight's armor, and quills arranged to perfection, he was a pretty picture. If only his expression were not one of distaste and imminent intent to kill. Ser Lancelot, the Ill-Made Knight as he proclaimed himself, was in a mood. These moods were not uncommon, but this one was particularly surly, and the King could no longer abide by it. Arthur turned in his throne and put his chin up on his fist.

"Oh, do cheer up, my friend. We have much to celebrate."

"That we do. It is an honor to be at your side, my liege."

"Oh do come off it. My liege, what am I to you?"

"My king."

A quarrel could have broken out, one that would mean nothing in the long run, but a clearing of a throat from the base of the dais took Arthur's attention, along with the mumbling of "King Puddinghead? A word."

Only one man would have the gall to crown the King chosen by Excalibur 'Puddinghead'. Lancelot's expression of dislike only increased as he turned his nose up in the air, and Arthur leaned down a bit to address this newest guest. "Merlyn! Glad you could make it, old friend! I thought you'd shut yourself up in the tower for the night! Whatever brings you here? Come, come, don't stand on the stairs!" Arthur's tone bid no argument, and the hand that reached down and plucked the small fox up to deposit him by the king's side did not broker a chance to parlay. "What is it, man? Speak up! Maid, a draft for our friend!"

"No, no, Ser Puddinghead, you've done enough debauchery for the both of us," Merlyn groused, brushing off his robes with an air of impatience. The wizard was short in stature, dwarfed by both hedgehog and echidna. Merlyn was a silvery grey color despite his relatively few years, with a white muzzle to match the king's. Large eyebrows twitched as he waved away the draught that was called for him. The servant was expressionless as she wandered off, back to the party. Merlyn continued with a slight decrease in volume, to prevent him from being overheard by the more... Enthusiastic, patrons. Like Gawaine and Lamorak, who took any chance to argue. "I was planning to spend my night in the tower, but I've caught something that we should really be wary of."

Arthur's attention was captured, as notoriously short as the span could be. He sat up straighter in his throne, his crown tipping dangerously onto the side of his head, hanging on one ear. He looked like quite the loon. "I do hope it's something exciting! I'm growing bored sat upon my a- Oh, thank you, Lance." As he spoke, Lancelot had wordlessly reached out to right the wayward headgear, and then retracted his arm. In favor of joining the conversation, he looked away, arms crossed and countenance disinterested. Both king and wizard knew better to think he wasn't listening. "Is it an approaching army? A fleet, perhaps? A declaration of war?!"

The twin grimaces on the fox and hedgehog were telling. Arthur had shouted, and now the less drunk among them had looked up, curious and drowsy, expecting an order. Merlyn waved an impatient hand at them, fussy to a fault, and hissed at his king. "Keep it DOWN, Puddinghead, or I'll have you turned into a frog! See if I won't!"

"You've threatened it many times, old chap, and you've never once done so."

"I'll show you tonight if you don't get your head out of the clouds this instant!"

Languidly stretching his limbs and sinking down in his seat, Arthur acquiesced and shook his head. "I am listening, Merlin. What did you see in your pipe smoke this time?"

Ignoring the comment about his methods of divination, Merlyn visibly swallowed a sharp, stinging rebuke and plunged ahead. "I saw an omen of wind and danger, King Puddinghead. I-"

"Wind and danger? Well, case closed, we close the harbor until the blizzard passes! That's that then, isn't it? Now get off into the party and have a bit of fun, you miserable old codger!" The king leaned forward enough to give the fox a pat on the back, a bit harder than may have been required, to send him scurrying off into the muck of the knights. The young wizard looked at if he might give in to the argument, but, after a moment, he merely threw his hand up in the air. He disappeared with a blink of light that went unnoticed by the now disinterested crowd. They were much more enthusiastic about Lamorak, who, likely in a bid to out-do Gawaine, had leaped on the table and was re-enacting a sword fight with a leg of some sort of bird. The laughter was uproarious. 

"I do not enjoy this party."

"Have you enjoyed any party?"

"I enjoyed the one after you were crowned, my king. This party is pointless. I do not wish to celebrate your wedding."

"Oh? Afraid you'll have to share me?"

"You are awfully full of yourself, Arthur."

"There's my name!" The joy in his voice was clear, and Lancelot tried hard not to smile as the king stood up and patted him on the shoulder. It was as least as hard as he had slapped Merlyn, but for all that Lancelot moved it may have been a feather touch. The knight was made of stone, until the king spoke again. "Come on now, chum. Your knees must be tired. You should get to bed," he claimed, punctuated with a yawn and stretch. He threatened to rip his tunic, but not quite. "And so must I."

As Arthur scampered off, Lancelot fell into step behind him, hands clasped at his back. "My knees are none of your concern," he stated. It was a lie, but quarreling was simply in his nature, especially with Arthur. His clockwork sabatons dug into the red carpet as Arthur slipped out of the backdoor, the hedgehog having followed suit. Once the door closed behind him, the noise and light of the party dampened considerably. His eyes adjusted quickly to the torch and candlelight of the hall, trotting along like a faithful dog. He was no dog, but he was a companion. A loyal one, sworn only to Arthur, Grand Kingdom at large be damned. "And I do not need to be told when to go to bed. I can arrange that time myself, Arthur."

"I think you can't, my pet, which is why I'm instructing you, it is now bedtime. You are welcome for the reminder." The snort from behind him indicated the hedgehog did not find this reply as funny as the king did, but he was climbing the stairs and did not care. There were several more flights to mount yet, so the argument fell out of style for a time. He did not have to voice his want or need for Lancelot to follow him, he simply did. No requests, no demand, a simple tugging of his legs had the knight chasing after his king. It was a nice quality about Lancelot, he rarely had to be told anything. Of course, as Arthur turned on him, it also was a source of ridicule.

"Well, my most faithful knight, we have reached my chambers and I must bid you _adieu._ Good night, sweet knight, and thank you for your much-needed escort into my own chambers." Arthur gave a silly, mocking bow, as Lancelot knelt on the carpet. A familiar sight, considering Arthur was the only one Lancelot would ever kneel to. "You are dismissed."

"Your French is terrible, mon roi. Do leave the French to me. I was raised speaking it." Lancelot did not budge from his position, head down, knee sunk into the fabric. The carpet was worn thin, and the stone hurt his bones, but he knew what he'd get for waiting. "Am I truly meant to leave you here? There could be assassins in the chamber."

"A likely story," teased the king, straightening out and putting his hands to his hips. Another step in the script. "Do you want to check under my bed for monsters, Sir?" He knew the answer. Without a word, the echidna helped the somewhat sore knight to his feet, and opened the door to his private chambers. "Go on, then, Lancelot, Knight of the Lake. Have a look about, and tell me when you're done rifling through my personals." It could have been his imagination, but Arthur imagined he saw a quirk of a smile on Lancelot's cheek as he disappeared into the gloom. 

A few moments later, as Arthur leaned back against the wall, Lancelot returned, as expected. What was not expected was the small, crystal vial held in his hand. A work of art in of itself, inside the bottle sloshed a gentle pink liquid. A blue ribbon was tied around the widest part of the crystal, and a small flower was etched into the side, easily felt with the pad of a finger. Lancelot held it closer to the candlestick placed on the table by the door, and inhaled sharply. It was nearly a gasp. "... Is this for me?" The game abandoned, the knight turned to his king. Arthur's coy smile betrayed nothing.

His hand wave was nonchalant and infuriatingly flippant for such a gesture of... Lancelot wasn't sure what to call it. "I figured you'd like a little rose oil, given who your mother is. Do you like it?"

No reply was needed. Lancelot ducked inside the chambers, and Arthur followed, shutting the heavy wooden slab behind him.


	2. The Hero

Years had passed since that party in Camelot castle, with the Knights of the Round Table and their winter party. One last hurrah before the king was sent off to a fate most knights considered worse than death itself : marriage. Knights understood the importance of ladies in the time and were nearly always respectful of women they saw on their travels. However, as some younger men were prone to believe, a wife was something to be feared and avoided, for fear that their adventuring days would come to an end. No matter how much older knights tried to insist this was not the case, like Sir Gawaine, they would have none of it and firmly believed that Camelot was ending before it could ever begin. Any way one sliced it, a cause for celebration was in order, either a send-off to doom or eternal happiness, depending upon who you asked. Arthur had been set to wed some Lady Guenever from a kingdom over, who's king was an old friend and ally of his true father, Uther. This turn of events did not delight Lancelot, who had grown fond of Arthur's company and was not inclined to share his friendship with any. No matter how grand the Round Table was, when presented by Guenever's father as a wedding gift.

The beauty of the Lady Guenever did not help ease his mind, and instead bred some measure of hostility between the two upon first sight. A slight chipmunk of pleasant proportions, she was wonderful to be around, and it made Lancelot's moods turn sour and his disposition cross. More so than ever before, when he had a reputation for being honorable and filled with manners, but quite candid about his feelings. Any bit of her beauty, he wrote off as a trick to come between himself and Arthur. He wanted to believe she was spiteful, and rude, and evil. Therefore, anything she did he despised immediately. What he despised even further was how quickly she became pregnant with Arthur's child, a daughter that would be named Ursulet. She was just as pretty as her mother, even in infancy.

With lovely red hair that curled and fell down to her shoulders, and clear blue eyes filled with innocence, Lancelot disliked Guenever and was jealous. He wouldn't admit to such a dishonorable thing, to be jealous of a fair maiden whose marriage would strengthen the kingdom. However, her fanciful nature and cheery, passive demeanor made him resent her and all she stood for. It also made him resent himself, because he knew in his heart he did not 'distrust' her, merely hate that Arthur's attentions were split. It was many years before Arthur could convince the pair to be friends. It came about through hawking season, an argument about the ball of string that was used to train a new hawk, and how the creance was to be wound. The jerfalcon which he had been given as a present to Lancelot before by Arthur, likely to soothe his mood about the whole affair, was not the gentlest of beasts. 

Sulky and temperamental, fat from molting in the mews for weeks, it was in a foul state, and Lancelot caught it's fury. Guenever had come to assist him with the string, in an attempt to better understand and befriend him. Lancelot took his mood out upon poor Gwen, who was only attempting to help dislodge the string from around a thistle. Lancelot hated himself for the pain he could see in her eyes, and vowed to do better. In any case, the emotions were settled, Lancelot made a grand gesture of apology in private, and the two became close friends. This pleased Arthur so very much, to have his wife and his best friend so taken with one another. That was many years ago still, not the present day and year, nor the present event.

* * *

Ten long years had gone by, with mild summers and cold winters, as was the climate in the Grand Kingdom. The years had changed Arthur, and had changed Lancelot and the rest of his Round Table. It had become Lancelot's, rather than Arthur's, in the years of the echidna's divine rule. Arthur spread himself too thin, and his passion project went to the Ill-Made Knight. The glory and shine of Might enforces Right had faded, and now, Might had taken hold of the idealistic king again. This was not Lancelot's fault, who tried to uphold Right. Might spread far and wide across the kingdom, even to the doorstep of the peasantry and commonfolk, who ignored the knights and their antics at large. Especially when they were far off into the countryside like Sonic was, away from Camelot and it's silliness.

Heroes are, typically, not born. Heroes are made. Most people are born with an innate need to do good and right, and that need to be good is fed by compassionate parents. Good breeds more good, and that breeds greatness. Greatness breeds heroes. Sonic the Hedgehog was neither great, nor was he a hero, but he held that drive to do the right thing. It is unique to sentient species, and even a lowly boy, born among horses and spending his life raising them, could be a hero, if he were given the chance. Sonic lived a relatively quiet life, in his home with his parents, breeding and raising horses and enjoying his afternoons with a lute and a race against his pals.

His speed was a boon, enabling him to visit people far and wide. His home was relatively isolated, even by village standards, and there weren't many people his age around. Many had married and moved, many more had been caught up in war and died. War was now the flavor of the day. Arthur's peace had only lasted so long, until he began to extend his philosophy of Might enforced Right to their neighbors. This seemed a grand and plausible idea to many of his knights. Why not spread the ideal of a good thing, a thing that surely helped people? Over time, the narrative of enforcing Right had become tarnished and faded. Now, wars happened with little reason at all, and the knights and serfs went along with it. It was what was 'normal', and in the end, they were enforcing Right, weren't they?

If you squinted, perhaps, they could be marginally enforcing Right, but nigh everyone knew that was no longer what the Table was about. Even a common stableman like Sonic knew something had become corrupted along the way, but the affairs of knights were none of his business. Until they were.

Business came to his door one fall afternoon, with a thundering knock he could hear from his paddocks behind his cottage. Metal on wood, a loud, reverberating clang he knew could wake the dead, and likely woke his father from his nap. Sonic twisted his mouth in a wry smile and patted his favorite mare on the nose, setting the brush he was using down in its proper place. "Well. Wonder who that could be, eh? Think the mail carriers have started carrying gauntlets to make sure they delivered their letters?"

The mare gave no response but a liquid-eyed blink. Sonic shut the door to her stall and gave her one last, fond stroke down the snout before he turned to attend to whatever had blown into town. A war host had appeared days earlier, camping a mile or two from his village. From his home, on a grassy hill that put him above most of the other houses in the area. He called it a village, but it was more so a cluster of homes with a shop or two. He doubted it was on any map, and that made the appearance of a war host nothing to worry about, a minor inconvenience at worst. They were a pitstop in the long run of things, and the knights should have been here and gone in a few day's time. Off to fight another pointless battle, in a pointless war, that would ultimately gain nothing and lose lives.

He should have known better, as he wiped his hands off on his breeches and shouldered his back door open. A figure stood in his front entrance, clearly a knight from the way he carried himself and was dressed. A surcoat of arms on his tunic and a cloak around his shoulders, woolen stockings and leggings. Garb for anything but a peasant. Conversing with his mother in the doorway, the knight carried a pouch in his hand, and was making gestures at his father, who had stood and was looking like he was spoiling for a fight. 

At once, all three noticed the blue hedgehog's entrance into the home. Sonic's mother, a fair lady by the name of Bernadette, cleared her throat and brushed her violet quills behind her shoulders. "Go on back outside, Sonny, it's nothing for you to be-"

"I think it is," his father interrupted. They shared the same shade of blue in their quills, which were puffed-up on his father's head. Jules the Hedgehog was angry about whatever business was going down. "I don't think it's any concern of the knights if we have any sons! Shove off!" The older hedgehog had a brown tuft of fur on the top of his head that was waggling with indignation, and not just because he was unsteady on his feet. Having fought in wars years prior, Jules was no longer in peak condition. That didn't stop his fiery personality and penchant for brawls.

Jules could have been shouting at a statue, for all the knight seemed to care. Ruby eyes as hard as the stone had affixed themselves on Sonic, and were not about to let go. Sonic crossed his arms in a challenging way, just like his father to a fault. Now he wanted to fight just as badly as his father did, especially when the dark knight spoke again.

"Married?"

"No," his mother answered in a small voice, one hand almost covering her mouth. Not one to be intimidated, to see her giving up answers so freely shocked Jules out of his reverie.

"Bern, don't you dare-"

"How old is he?"

Bernadette chewed her lip, for a moment, brushing her hand through the blond streak in her quills before replying again. "Twenty-six. Twenty-seven next summer. Good with horses and strong. Oh, please Sir Knight, my husband's already fought in a war, do you really have to...?"

The silence was deafening, as the dishonorable guest stood and stared. He broke his look at Sonic to finally address Bernadette again. "I am under orders. I promise you, I would not do this if I did not have to. I do not enjoy this mess of taking men from their homes, but I must. The King commands it."

The growing dread in the pit of Sonic's stomach mounted and then dropped like he had jumped a gap too wide for his horse to make. The knight had come for a _draft?_ _Take me from my **home?** What the hell is this?!_ "Mom," he begged, like he could plead his way out of this. The knight seemed to have already made a choice, and nodded.

"That will do. Your king and country thanks you for your noble sacrifice."

Sonic's fate had already been sealed, with the transfer of the pouch in the knight's hand to Bernadette's own. Her fingers closed about the bag almost too tightly, close to a strangling grip. The little clinking noise gave away what was inside: Coins. This was not an uncommon practice, to recruit men from villages with no wives and drag them off to war. That's what had happened to many of his friends on their travels across the country, accosted by knights with promises of fame and glory. That was just how things were, here. Sonic simply never expected to have money to be a part of this transaction. _The king must be taking bribes for knights now,_ he thought bitterly, as his mother turned and quickly deposited the pouch into her quills. "Sonny. Go and pack up for a trip. Take the good mare with you." The words were breathy and quick, as Bernadette hurried off to do some packing of her own. Food for the journey, likely. Neither of them wanted to reflect on what just happened. It wasn't a pleasant affair, and if they ignored it, perhaps it would simply go away. Like a child up past their bedtime, hiding their heads under their covers to prevent discovery.

Packing was a subdued affair. The knight had long since left, gone off to tend to the horse he had ridden here and tied to the post in front of the home. As Sonic put his clothes in his bags, packing as light as he could to avoid straining his horse, he began to stew. He did not have a temper. Even-keeled, if a bit cocky, was his nature. To have such feelings of resentment broiling in his heart upset him. _I'm perfectly right to feel this way, he argued with himself. The king can get off his throne, fight his own damn wars, why I oughta..._ The grumbling continued, half in his mind, half out, as he burst his way through the backdoor to get his mare settled.

The same liquid eyes greeted him as he stormed into the stables. Other horses immediately picked up on his feelings of rage and began whinnying and stamping, causing a ruckus that served only to infuriate him further. Sonic intended to pack his horse as quickly as possible just to get this all over with, but he slowed and stopped as he faced her. After a minute of consideration, he blew out a breath, and the action took his more violent emotions with it. "Sorry, pal. You don't deserve that part of me, do you? No, you don't," he answered for her. Saddling and prepping a horse was so second nature to him by now that it was done in mere moments, and he led her out by the reigns. She was a pretty horse, a dappled white and grey with a pink nose. Alert ears and an easy-going nature made her a lovely riding horse. That was what she was meant for, he assumed, riding long distances with a host of other unfortunate footmen who had been dragged into this conflict. Not everyone owned and bred horses, so he considered himself extremely lucky in that regard. He wouldn't have to walk.

The knight, and his parents, were waiting for him when he led his mare around front. He let her go to trot for the other horse and greet it, as she was a friendly sort and would become ornery if not allowed to do so. There was a tense mood in the air, as his father stood face-to-face with the knight. A fight had, clearly, broken out while Sonic was off and preparing to leave, as Jules was violating the knight's space. Puffed up and nearly chest-to-chest with the stranger, he was aggravated and ready to throw a punch at any moment.

"I don't bloody care if you're Sir Lancelot, you could be the king himself and I'd tell you the same answer! You're not getting my boy!" Said boy's arrival went unnoticed by all but his mother who, eager to escape the conflict, scurried over to his side to fuss over him. Sonic tuned out of the disagreement between Jules and Lancelot and tipped his head down to let his mother pepper him with kisses.

"Oh, do be safe, and come back if you can," she said, breathless and hurried between the nuzzling and pecking of his face. Her arms had gone around his midsection and threatened to never let go, tight and unyielding. She was strong, having spent years wrangling her homestead, and was beginning to pick up some of the moxie she'd dropped when Lancelot came to the door. She cast a look over her shoulder at the bickering men, mainly Jules doing the bickering, and embraced her son, whispering in his ear. "Break off as soon as you can, we'll hide you in the cellar in an old ale cask and they'll never be the-"

Sonic placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed her backward, just enough to have some space. "Mom," he stated, leaning down to return a single kiss to her forehead before he left. "I'm gonna come home, yeah? Don't worry about me. Take care of dad for me? You know he needs you." Pushing away so he could avoid the tears in her eyes, Sonic gave his mother a small thumbs-up before he abandoned her to her emotion. Waltzing up behind his father, he clapped the hedgehog on the shoulder. "Pops," he stated, with intent to calm him, he couldn't speak a word before getting cut off.

"Are you ready to go?" Lancelot asked. Sonic studied him up and down critically, he knew of the Head of the Round Table. He had just never seen the man before. Years had been unkind to the greatest knight of them all. He stood tall and proud, nose in the air and shoulders squared, however, his face had changed. He looked outright weary, lines had begun to form where there once were none. He looked tired, worn down, and beaten, but he refused to yield. He almost looked rugged and bold, and would have passed off as handsome, had his eyes not looked so sad. The expression sharpened immediately, expecting an answer. He may have looked older, but his mind was still quick.

Sonic breathed in and out, to steady himself, then nodded his head. "Yeah, all packed. So's she," he continued, angling his head towards his mare. Sonic rubbed his father's shoulder once in a comforting manner and then dropped his hand. "So, where we headed?"

"Back to the host," Lancelot replied, turning to mount his gelding. A practiced motion, betraying years of skill. His horse perked up and snorted immediately, pawing and shaking itself out, eager to go. It had been trained and broken in well and was happy to go somewhere again. "Are you sure you're finished here?"

The blue hedgehog turned his head to look at his side. His mother had crept to rejoin his father's side, holding him closely. Jules' face was hard, chin set in an expression of stubborn defiance. He did not respect this knight, but Lancelot did not care. His own countenance was indifferent, almost dismissive. Sonic gave his father one last squeeze around the shoulders, then stepped forward to get on his own horse.

"Yeah. I'm ready."


	3. The War Host

In Sonic's semi-professional opinion, there was nothing quite like a good horse. Of course, his opinion was only semi-professional because while he had bred and trained and raised horses since he was old enough to sit a pony, he had never had much formal education. To become a professional horse breeder and trainer and raiser one would have to go off and get a slip of paper that said they were, and that was too much trouble. Especially for a common boy like him. Thus, it was merely his own word and the words of others that he had to rely on, and he thought he had bred and trained and raised a very good horse for himself. The mare, while prone to conversation with other horses, was well-broken and didn't stray off the path given to her. She had trotted down the road her whole life, so the path down from his home, while occasionally steep, was nothing new to her. She fell into step at once, without a whicker of complaint, and marched placidly down. 

Lancelot did not have such fine luck. Sonic kept his mouth shut since he had waved goodbye to his parents prior, but he could tell Lancelot's horse was... Not prepared for the terrain. His white gelding picked it's way down the rocky pathway that was chopped into the hillside with apprehension and borderline contempt. Lancelot himself didn't say a word, in fact his expression barely changed. However, the white around his nostrils and the tightening grip on the reigns of his gelding were signs his patience was wearing thinner and thinner. Several times, Sonic nearly dismounted to help lead the gelding down the path, as it could be tricky. He stayed his tongue and his hand, and instead, said and did nothing. This was not a man who's ire he desired to draw out, as Lancelot had developed a reputation. Even a commoner like himself had heard of the famed Sir Lancelot, and didn't want to run afoul of his temper or sword.

Once the terrain flattened out and the hilltop was far behind, merely a rise in the landscape with a cottage on top, Lancelot cleared his throat and spoke. "Your horse is well trained. She didn't gawk at the decline of the trail." The knight's eyes traveled toward his companion, who had pulled up beside him and fallen into step.

Sonic shrugged, being careful not to flick the reigns when he did, and rubbed the back of his neck in a casual sort of way. "Yeah. Trained her myself. She's a good horse," he added, leaning forward to pat the mare's neck affectionately. He earned a pleasing whinny for his efforts and sat back in the saddle, attempting to stretch his back a touch. "Thanks," he supplied, as an afterthought. "That a new gelding?"

"Indeed it is. Very new. I picked him up right before I left for the journey."

"And uh, how's that one working out for ya?" Sonic inquired, a sneaky grin slipping onto his features. Perhaps, if he made himself irritating enough, Lancelot would tell him to get out and go home.

No such luck. The surly knight squared his shoulders and stared ahead at the pathway, flicking his reins to put a little distance between themselves. "Not well. I'd be better off with my destrier than this palfrey." His tone did not offer a chance for comment, and as Lancelot pulled ahead, Sonic shut his mouth once more and did not offer one. He decided that he was not overly fond of this 'Lancelot', no matter how great he was.

* * *

Lancelot had abandoned Sonic to his fate at the back of the war host. Having instructed them to pack up when he left, carts were already hitched and horses saddled, impatient to be off. Lancelot and dumped his companion at the back of the host, with the vague instructions of "cause no trouble" before he kicked his steed into a gallop. It was mere minutes before the procession began to move, and Sonic was all the grumpier for it. As they marched on, he became more and more incensed. The scenery changed, from the rolling hills and plains of his birth village to a forest that gradually became denser and darker.

He had been equipped with nothing, no sword, spear, or anything more than the knife he had brought with him. From the other footmen he walked alongside, having jumped off his mare's back to give her a rest, he found he was not alone in this. Not one among them was armed, and if they were, it was with a sorry excuse of a sword, better suited to poke a fire than strike armor. Something like righteous fury rose in his chest, and he addressed a boy a few years younger than he to his side. "Hey, how long have you been traveling in this parade?"

The boy, for he was a boy now that Sonic looked twice, twitched some large lop ears. A bandage was affixed to his cheek, and he rubbed a hand through some fluffy grey hair. "I been here a week, Sir," said the rabbit. A sniffly, shifty-looking sort, he rubbed his eyes with a dirty paw and looked away. Sonic raised an eyebrow, then looked to his horse.

Oh. "Oh, no no no, I'm not a knight or anything! I just, uh. Raise horses. I got to take this one with me. So you've been here a week and you don't have any gear?!"

"No, sir," repeated the boy. With his fur so dusty, the usually white pelt became a confused muddle of brown and grey. "I heard the higher-ups say that we didn't have enough swords for us all. We're supposed to stop in some village we passed through last month, but I don't know nuffin'." That declaration of falsehood was met by a dejected paw kicking the dirt, resulting in a small cloud of dust blowing away. "Go ask one of them, if you got the brass."

"Brass?! I've got copper, iron, and gold little buddy! You just wait, I'm gonna give them a piece of my-" His mare, whose reins he had kept a hold on, suddenly came to a silent and dutiful stop. Sonic hadn't noticed, but his arm was yanked backward as he plowed ahead. He looked back at his horse with a glare, before he looked ahead and noticed that the procession had stopped. 

"Oh, what now?!" Moaned the rabbit beside him, who plopped down to sit in the dirt, grateful for the break. They hadn't been marching for very long all things considered, but for a boy that had been marching on for a week? Any break may as well have been sent by Chaos himself. 

Sonic put out his chin and crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. "This has gotta be good," he muttered to himself. "Here, kid. You hold this horsie here, just hold the reins like this, see?" He said, holding them in one hand for demonstration. The young boy looked up at him with tired, disinterested eyes, and spoke after a second of consideration.

"Can I pet her?"

"Sure you can!" Sonic exclaimed, giving his horse a quick stroke down the nose. Happy for the attention, she shook out her mane and stepped in place a few times. "See? She's nice and docile. You just take the reins and pat her for a while. I'm gonna go see the hold up."

The boy, who had stood up with ready enthusiasm and taken to stroking and patting, perked up his ears at once. They flopped comically about his head as he whipped it around. "What?! Oh no, good sir, you can't-"

 _You can't_ were never words that Sonic much agreed with, and he left his compatriot with his horse. In short order, he had dashed up the column of knights, horses, carts and commonfolk, and come to the root of the matter. "You've gotta be jokin' with me, here!"

There was nothing to laugh about with this matter. Two knights were caught up in a rather big predicament. Sir Percival, a recognizable and honorable knight of the Round Table, was bound up with rope. Trailing behind the rope, upon one end, was a large white brachet. Said brachet was baying mournfully, impossibly stuck in a large gorse bush. A long, slender snout and longer legs gave it the appearance of a horse with long, shaggy fur. It made a miserable noise and Sonic wished it to stop at once. At the other end of the rope was a knight whom Sonic had no idea the name of. A slimly-framed man atop a charger, shouting incomprehensibly and waving his arms, a lance having been dropped at his side. The rope was wrapped thrice around and inside the horses legs and then ran back up to the front of it's saddle, threatening to topple it at any moment if either knight or brachet were to break free. Truly, a disastrous situation.

This situation was made worse by the crowd that had gathered at the end of the makeshift clearing, where the crew that made the road had cut out a little area for themselves in the forest to rest. It was an old road, and therefore the clearing was overgrown, which was how the brachet had become hopelessly stuck in the first place. The crowd looking on and shouting advice, among other things, was only serving to confuse both knights and the brachet. Said brachet had finished howling and now strained against the rope with a dopey, self-satisfied expression, serving only to further complicate the situation. To top it off, the foreign knight was shouting something along the lines of "My glasses! My spectacles! Nobody step on them, I beg you!"

The smart thing to do would, perhaps, be to turn around, walk away, and let knights sort themselves out. Sonic never claimed to be wise, and instead jumped into action. Taking great pains not to step on the spectacles laying on the other end of the clearing, he picked his way across the grass until he reached the brachet. Seizing it's collar as to not scare the poor dog, he patiently tried to lead it back around the tree it had gotten tangled in, after freeing it from the gorse bush. The brachet was overtly gruntled to be free of the situation it had put itself in, and to thank it's rescuer? The dog leapt up with ease, as it had great legs with which to bound, and knocked Sonic flat. "Hey! Knock that off!" Sonic giggled, as a wet dog tongue attacked his face and hands. Now he had become embroiled in the mess.

The great big disaster may have gone on forever and then a few days more, but Sonic suddenly found himself quite free of the brachet. In fact, the dog bounded off, braying to it's lungs' greatest capacity, but the rope had been severed. With a final dramatic howl, the dog fell upon it's side and began to pant, drained of it's energy. It was no worse for wear, merely tired. Wiping slobber out of his eyes and ignoring the bruises obtained from the paws of the overexcited animal, Sonic at up on his arm to suss out what happened.

Before him stood a knight in armor, but not the sour one he had become acquainted with. Sir Percival, having freed herself of the rope the brachet had tied her in, gave him a delighted smile and an outstretched hand. The weak sunlight shone off her polished armor, giving her a nearly ethereal look. "What ho, stranger! I appreciate your attempts to assist myself and my father. Unfortunately... Well, it always seems to make itself worse, doesn't it, what?" 

Swallowing his shock at the knight's friendly atmosphere and tipped-up visor, Sonic took the hand offered to him. "Sorry. Animals just tend to like me, I just didn't expect her to jump on me like that!" He regained his footing and brushed the dirt off his clothes, before offering his hand to the knight again. Somewhat surprised by the gesture, Percival took his hand and gave it a shake. "Sonic the Hedgehog, at your service!" He proclaimed, releasing her hand to give a dramatic bow.

Percival giggled at the pageantry and gave him a shallow bow of her own. "Sir Percival Pellinore."

Pellinore? "So that means that's-"

"King Pellinore, yes."

While this exchange of names and greetings had gone on, the mess the brachet had made came crashing down upon the King Pellinore. The now-named figure had a devil of a time with his horse, a large charger more equipped to run tilts than stand still. When the rope around it's legs tightened, the steed rose up a touch on it's legs and gave a frightful neigh, and that bit of effort had caused the King to tumble out of his seat and fall squarely upon his rear. The cries of "what, what, stop I say!" went unnoticed as the horse, now free, trotted off. "What in blazes severed my rope?!" Cried the anguished monarch, before a friendly hand came to his aid.

"Hail, King Pellinore."

"Sir Lancelot! Why, hail, my old chap, hail indeed!" The two shook hands, and then Lancelot helped the silly cat upright. Pellinore lifted his visor with a hand, like he was shading his eyes in the seats of a pavilion. "Ah! It is you! Have you seen the man who cut my rope and set that beastly dog free?"

"It was I, King Pellinore. Here are your glasses."

"Yes! My spectacles, thank you. And you've wiped them off for me as well!" The glasses were quickly deposited into their proper place on Pellinore's nose. From what Sonic could see, in his position on the other end of the clearing, the cat was black-furred with a set of large golden eyes, blinking themselves into clarity. "What a good chap you are! Thank you, very much so sir."

"A pleasure to see you sir. Whatever brings you here, Sir? Chasing the Beast again?"

"Why yes!" The king was positively ecstatic, trembling in place with repressed joy. This caused his visor to slip and clamp shut again. Both knights waited politely until the visor was raised once more. "The Questing Beast! Curse of the Pellinores and all that, you know. Have you happened to see her? I lost sight of her last month, wretched creature!"

"I am afraid I have not."

"Blast."

"Quite so, King Pellinore. Blast. How have you been doing?"

"Oh, how-de-do to you too, sir!"

The men shook hands again, for the second time. "Let me help you onto your horse, yes?" Lancelot propositioned, and set about doing just that. 

During the tomfoolery of knights exchanging greetings, another knight had joined Sonic and Percival, who had been creeping back to the crowd. The long red dreads peeking out from his visor proclaimed this to be Sir Gawaine, a knight known for his fearsome temper. "Ach, they'll be at this all day, Percie, and you know it. Step in and give your father a send-off, eh?"

"Oh do hush, Gawaine," Percival soothed, patting her fellow's shoulder as they exited the clearing and joined the crowd. Sonic followed along, no longer eager to jump into knightly affairs. Gawaine would not be half as kind to him as Percival was. The red echidna was known for being hot-headed and violent, to the point of breaking the chivalric code several times with the slaying of peers. He was the worst of his siblings when it came to that. While the knights beside him delved into a quarrel, Sonic turned his attention back to Lancelot and Pellinore. Pellinore had now mounted his horse and was engaging in friendly banter.

"Lovely day, isn't it Sir Lancelot?"

"Yes, fine day, fine day for traveling."

"Well, now that we've met, I suppose we should have a joust, what?"

"What? Whatever for?" Came the shocked reply from the hedgehog in question, taken aback by the boldness.

"The usual reasons, I suppose? It is rare to meet such a fine jouster as yourself! I want to see your skills again!"

"Pellinore, my dear friend. If we were to joust I should suppose I would kill you."

"What?!" Shouted the king in outrage, now trembling in earnest. The large bushy set of whiskers set beside his nose wiggled fiercely, like a mustache. "Well, now I am thoroughly insulted! You, kill me? Impossible! Aside, it is a fine day for travel, and thus a fine day for a joust, before the snow and hail sets in for fall!"

"Hail?"

"Yes, quite so, hail! Now make ready, old friend, for I am going to win!"

Fed up with the cockamamie show of the Pellinores, Lancelot rolled his eyes, and extended his hand for a shake. _That was that_ , Sonic supposed. _Now they're gonna joust._ For not the first time, Sonic wished he was home.


	4. The Joust

Now, as a detour, one may wonder why a war host would stop all proceedings for something as simple as a joust. By all means it was a silly and inconsequential thing at best, and at worst, an active hindrance to the mission the knights were on. To understand why an entire wartime procession would stop for something as small as a joust between friends, one must become acquainted with the code of the era. To a knight, honor and chivalry were the words to live and die by. Arthur may have become twisted along his way, but his knights still held fast to the old ways, and thus, to duel was an honorable, necessary activity. Knights that ran across one another in the wilds would often have a joust or share some swordplay, and then accompany one another for a time. It was a way to provide each other with company and constant testing of skills, so no sword fell rusty and no lance was unused.

There was also the matter of rank. There was no official leaderboard, like for cricket or football, no court-sanctioned list of who was the best knight. There was merely trust and word of mouth. Lancelot, by trust and word of mouth, was the best knight of the era. An excellent swordsman and a savant at the tilt, to fight Lancelot was often to sign oneself up to lose. He was considered the finest of all the knights and had held the reputation for a decade. What comes with fame, though, is constant challenges. Accosted at every turn, Lancelot could not forfeit an invitation to fight. To do so would allow the other knight to claim he was a coward and feared losing, and damage his record. Lancelot put no stock in titles and rank and thought the whole thing silly, but the pride in his chest at being the Head of the Round Table always made him take the bait presented to him. He was Arthur's strongest knight, and even if he cared little about it, he would fight to the death to keep the title.

Thus, with the joust now a reality, the host broke camp under orders of Lancelot. All roads in those days were cut with a large ditch on either side, with several yards of trees cleared out of the way to prevent highwaymen from making a station to rob travelers. It was also enough for the warhost to make a place to eat and sleep for the night, if they did not want to sleep on the road. Given the amount of steel carried amongst the men, to sleep on the road was not wise, so to the clear-cut woods they went. Sonic had sprinted back to inform his newfound rabbit friend of the proceedings ahead, and to ask if he would share camp with him later that night. The rabbit, whose given name was Charlie, had enthusiastically agreed to make a place for them both at the side of the road if Sonic reserved a spot to watch the joust. Sonic sealed the deal with a pat on the back and a firm rub under the rabbit's hooded cloak, and it was set. Once he had assisted in tying his mare to a sturdy tree and setting her to graze, he dashed back to the scene of the action.

The rush was not needed. While a joust had been agreed upon, there was much to do to prepare for it. Pellinore was in full armor, but his horse had been running all day and needed a rest. Aside from that, Lancelot had to make his own arrangements, so to start a joust immediately would be completely pointless. To put on armor, even with help, was something of a task in of itself, and could take up to four hour if the screws were all wrong and the padding had grown dull, and if the help was helpless. Fortunately, Lancelot kept his jousting set (for he had two sets, one for war and one for a joust) in good condition, and it took merely an hour to get it on. After he had to tend to his charger, the third and final horse he had with him. He could have used his destrier, but as Pellinore was similarly equipped with a charger it was agreed upon to only be fair that way.

As they flounced about with their rules of engagement, and what was 'fair' and 'not fair', some of the footmen had taken to properly clearing the glen out for a joust. The trees were springy and still quite young, and made for good firewood at any rate, so by the time kindly and wood was acquired the 'tilt-yard' had been suitably constructed for a battle. With plenty of space for swordplay should it come down to it and a long, narrow way for the horses to build up speed, it was a fine yard for something built in the course of a few hours. With horses rested, tilt-yard constructed and an audience amassed, the knights rode into the center of their yard, and then broke off in opposite directions. Typically, a tilt-yard like this would have a tilt-barrier. Lesser, inexperienced knights would often ride straight into one another, making a mess of the affair and generally causing more harm than the tilt itself would if done properly. The tilt-barrier became a necessity for tournaments, to prevent the horses from crashing together and keep some friendly distance between the jousters. 

Lancelot and Pellinore were not inexperienced, nor were they lesser. In fact, for the time, Pellinore could be considered quite old. Having had children already, Lamorak and Percival to be exact, he was getting on in years. The twinkle in his spectacles eyes had not diminished, but his fur had begun to go white and grey around the edges. Lancelot had just recently breached thirty one, in the prime of his life, and was getting better all the time. He and Pellinore had many jousts before, and would likely have many after this, provided no freak accidents occurred. Jousting was not a safe sport, even with the minute regulations put into place.

Sonic had earned a spot at the front of the gathering crowd, due to his help with the Pellinores prior. As he watched the knights break off and their chargers lumber in opposite directions, he heard a voice from above. "Psst, Sonic, up here!"

"Huh?!" He exclaimed, whipping his head about wildly, blue quills a riot of color. Finally, he looked upward as instructed, and saw Sir Percival. Ten feet up in a large tree, she was waving down with enthusiasm. His expression must have betrayed how bewildered he was, because she grinned and giggled. Out of armor, she had clearly climbed the tree herself to get a birds-eye view. Her hair was long and light lavender, and fell to her shoulders. It was tied atop her head with a deep crimson ribbon that fluttered in the breeze. A leather jerkin, traditionally a man's garb, replaced her typical armor.

"Don't stand there with your mouth open like a fish! Come on up here, best seat in the house!"

Knights could not order him about, typically, but the lure was too fresh and sweet to ignore. Leaping over the ditch, Sonic approached the base of the tree Percival had sat herself in. It was a slippery trunk, Sonic discovered as he dug his claws in, but there was a bough not too far up, if he jumped. He backed up a dozen feet and charged, leaping into the air when he was close enough. His hands closed around the limb, and he swung himself around and onto the branch, feeling rather proud. "See a peasant do that before, Percie?" He asked, plopping himself down to sit. Percival shimmied down from her spot and sat on the branch above, leaning around the trunk to talk to him directly.

"Why no, never before in my life! Why are you down there, my friend? Come on up higher, they're about to begin!"

Sonic gave her a sly grin, and shot a thumb over his shoulder. "Because, I promised a buddy I'd get us good seats," he stated. Right as he spoke, Charlie came bounding to the other side of the ditch. Cupping a hand around his mouth, Sonic whistled and waved to the rabbit boy. With a similarly startled expression as Sonic had, the white bunny jumped over the gash in the earth with ease, and came to the trunk of the tree. 

"I didn't know this was what you had in mind, sir..." Charlie said, meek as you please, touching the tree trunk with apprehension. "Can't we sit down here? I don't... Like heights."

"Pssshhh, c'mon bud! How are you gonna face your fears? Jump up, and I'll catch you. I'll hold onto your sleeve so in case you all off, I'll rescue you." Sonic replied, confident in his ability. He was going to keep his promise, and if Percival, standing by and watching the proceedings, said these were good seats? He would ensure his new-found pal would get one. "Perc, wanna hold my ankles for me?" 

To talk to a knight so casually broke many rules of class, but Sonic... Felt comfortable around her. Her golden eyes were cheerful and her expression open and willing. She nodded enthusiastically, making her hair bounce. "Of course, I'm happy to help! I owe you one." 

"Do I really?" Sonic questioned, still grinning as he swung downwards. True to her word, Percival held his ankles tightly, strong and capable. One did not become a knight without obtaining a clear amount of muscle mass and strength. "I mean, I didn't really do anything special! In fact I kinda made it worse," he grunted, grabbing hold of Charlie's hands as he ran and leaped for the hedgehog. The rabbit didn't way much under his shaggy clothing, and Sonic easily began to pull him up. He used his own strength to gradually pull himself upright, chattering as he went. "I'm surprised Lancelot of all people stepped in. He's kind of a..." As he settled Charlie onto the branch in front of him, Sonic snapped his finger, looking for a word.

Percival happily supplied it. "A sourpuss?"

Sonic felt his eyebrows turn down, and a frown crossed his face, jiggling his leg. Normally, he would tap his foot on the floor, but straddling the branch like this, he couldn't. "That's putting it pretty mildly."

"Yes, Lancelot's a bit of a handful," Percival proclaimed, climbing higher into the tree. With a look at Charlie to ensure he would follow, Sonic climbed after her. "He wasn't always that way though!"

Shock made it's way onto his features, as Sonic looked from Percival's new perch, a good twenty feet off the ground, to Charlie. The young rabbit was making his way, carefully, across the boughs. This tree was adorned with many, and they were all thick and strong, with sparse leaves to boot. A lovely tree to sit in. "He wasn't born with that look on his face?!" He called after the knight in leather clothing.

"Certainly not!" Having settled herself, Percival looked down to speak. Sonic set Charlie up kindly in the bough Percival was first in, the one a dozen feet off the ground, and then bounced up to join her. "I will tell you the story later. Look, there they go!"

Settling his back against the trunk and crossing his arms over his chest, Sonic looked on. "This oughta be good, if it stops the whole host."

"It will be. Lancelot is the best jouster, you will see!"

The horses had stopped in their lumbering off, and both knights had turned around. Lancelot, sat up in his armor, looked like nothing special. His armor was unadorned. No crest, no feather plume, no fancy embellishments. It was all smooth metal, convex and shined to perfection. He looked like a fresh face, like a hedge-knight with no king or castle to call his own. It was, of course, intentional. When jousting, the object of the game was to knock the other knight off their horse. The ash or cypress lances, like the one Lancelot carried, were made to catch on the opposing knight's armor. Once they caught, the force was supposed to topple the foe knight and bring them to the ground. Without getting into the intricacies of the lances and horses and armor, that was the basics of the game. True jousters, like Lancelot, knew every bit of their strategy, and that was what made them so great. 

"Hail, Lancelot!" Pellinore called, lifting his visor so his voice could be carried across the green. "You have insulted my honor, and now we must joust!"

"Hail, Pellinore. I accept your challenge."

"... You have no flair for the dramatic, dear knight. But never you mind! Hyah!"

They 'hyah' did not have a grand effect, at first. It merely got the opposing chargers to amble into a walk, as the knights adjusted their seats and lowered their lances. The seat was half the battle, in a joust. How a knight sat their horse could typically decide the course of a battle, and both knights were not sitting well. In fact, Lancelot almost appeared clumsy, failing to adjust to the horse's rhythm beneath him. Pellinore encouraged by the perceived weakness, spurred his horse on all the harder. "Tcah, tchah I say! Pick it up, friend, pick it up!"

Both steeds approached a trot, then a canter. Knights did not gallop full long at one another like in the dramatic tales. In fact, they took it rather slow. It was the last bit of the joust where they snapped into a gallop, and the horses came together in a crash, and the knights truly tested their mettle against one another. Lancelot's reputation was so great nowadays that when he rode in disguise, he would often ride terribly. It was in the final stretch where he shone his true colors, the last mad dash to the finish, where he excelled. That was his strategy here. Most knights tended to falter in this final piece, they would hesitate, lean back in their seat to attempt to evade a strike, and soften a blow.

Lancelot refused to do that. In a flash, he had kicked his charger into a gallop, and the joust was on. Lancelot snapped himself forward, lance tucked tight under his arm, and did not waver in his advance. It took courage, to throw oneself into a full gallop at the moment of impact, and as the horses closed in, Pellinore fell back in his seat. His lance was angled low, aiming for the groove of Lancelot's chestpiece and greaves. His opponent, however, had gone high, and his lance was true. Lancelot's lance drove it's point home into a difficult strike, on the top of Pellinore's helmet. It caught into the crest on the very top, and with a flourish of his arm, Lancelot unhorsed Pellinore. Many of Lancelot's tilts against greater knights, like Tristram, could last all day. This was over in minutes, as the onlookers cheered and Lancelot pulled his horse around.

Pellinore came to a great halt on the ground, his armor making a clang not unlike a large bell being dropped down a flight of stone stairs. He was clearly stunned, though mostly unharmed. Having lost his spectacles in the crash, Pellinore was carefully getting to his feet, patting his hands upon the floor as he did. His horse shambled off to find greener grass to nibble, and Lancelot pulled his charger up beside the now-sore King. "Lovely try for my hip there, Pellinore. You nearly had me."

"I did not take you to be so bold as to go for the helm! My lance was longer!"

"Ah, but you wavered, my friend. Your lance was too long for you. Come now. Join me for dinner at the campfire."

"I should think I would. I've been after this blasted Beast for so long, I've missed the company of friends! Lovely joust, lovely joust, yes? I should like to see the other knights too!"

Lancelot cantered off to go and retrieve Pellinore's charger, as Percival jumped off her branch to assist her father in finding his glasses. Charlie, eyes full of wonder, looked up to the blue hedgehog on the branch above him. "Cor! Wasn't that a sight?!"

Sonic gave no reply. His eyes tracked Lancelot into the brush, as he leaned to the side and grasped the reins of Pellinore's steed. _Guess he really is that good. Huh. What's he doing in the middle of nowhere like this?_


	5. The Boy in the Lake

The evening had fallen in the hours following the afternoon joust. Pellinore had been received with all the grace and honor of a knight of his standing, that being a King in another country. He was one of the original members of the Round Table, and a longtime friend of Lancelot and Arthur both. Not to mention, the father of Percival and Lamorak, who had taken their father in with affection and warmth and set about getting him set up with them in their camp. The knights proper, Lamorak, Gawaine, Percial, were all at the head of the host. It was there where decisions were made on the course to take and other such actions. Towards the back of the host, because of a lack of speed and status, trailed the peasantry. Few of them had horses, unless they brought the steeds with them, and many were not in the best of shape. They improved with the care of the masses around them, but the fact stood that they were slower than the mounted knights. Before the peasants were the carts of supplies, drawn by draft horses. Those had been brought from Camelot, and thus were unaffected by the shouting and general mayhem around them of people breaking camp.

True to his word, Charlie had found himself and Sonic a spot. Shaded by large trees with arching boughs, still heavily leafed in fall, it provided a certain measure of protection should a rainstorm occur. He had even set up a firepit, with the help of the commonfolk around him, and it wasn't long before he and Sonic got one to light. After a time of setting up their beds to sleep in and watering Sonic's mare, a squire walked down the line. Bent over his saddlebags looking for the vegetables his mother had packed, Sonic didn't notice the fellow jumping over the ditch until he was on top of him. "Sir Sonic?"

Sonic snapped his head up, putting his fists up for a fight. The squire, appearing as one with the crest of arms on his surcoat, stepped back and put his hands up. The crest was of the Pellinores, a cat head with a pair of eagle wings beneath it. A lovely picture, all things considered. Sonic narrowed his eyes, immediately distrusting, as Charlie vanished into the brush. He was an easily spooked little lad. "I'm not a sir. Whaddya want?"

The squire cleared it's throat. A swan of somewhat lanky stature, he was a graceful sort. He bowed his head and presented to Sonic a bit of parchment. "For you, from the Lady Percival. She wishes for you to come up and join her."

"Me?" Incredulous at the invitation, Sonic took the paper and read it over. Some people couldn't read, but he was thankful to be good with his letters _and_ his numbers, thanks to his parents knowing them too. It was true, the scrap of paper was in fanc, curling script, proclaiming that Percival was inviting him to eat with them. He raised his deep verdant eyes to the swan, still bowed. "Can Charlie come too?"

"Was he specified on the note?"

"No."

A look of deep thought crossed the swan's face, before he sucked on his cheek and gave a curt nod. "Yes. I suppose he could join you. The Lady is forgiving and will no doubt enjoy one more person to attend her... Theatrics. Do make haste, now. Do not keep the Lady waiting." The swan, eager to be away from the riffraff by the looks of things, hopped back over the gouge in the earth and waited there, hands folded.

Venturing into the brush and retrieving Charlie, Sonic looked to his mare. "What about her?"

"If you are leaving to attend to the Lady Percival, no man would steal your horse."

"They'd better not," Sonic muttered darkly, before picking his way back to the swan. He leaped over it, assisted Charlie, and then was off. He kept a firm grip on the rabbit's shoulder as they went. It had only been a matter of hours, but Sonic felt oddly responsible for his well-being at large.

* * *

Getting to the front of the host took only a matter of minutes, but it felt like an hour. Avoiding mud puddles, dirt piles, and other unsavory things was a challenge. Several times, Sonic lifted Charlie out of muck's way, and set him down where the road was a touch nicer. As they passed the horse-drawn carts, the road improved significantly, and it was almost pleasant when they reached the campfire of the knights. Percival was waving wildly, still in her clothes from prior, happily sat on a log. Her dinner was balanced precariously on a plate cross her lap, tilting this way and that like a ship on rocking seas. Beside her on her log, chopped down to form a bench, was Sir Gawaine. As a contrast to Sir Percival's friendly disposition, he was fully absorbed in his meal and did not care one whit about Sonic and Charlie. He spared them but a glance, and then tucked back in. Sonic liked him, if only because he seemed indifferent and not outwardly hostile. He could tolerate being ignored.

"Why Sonic! I am glad to see you, and your friend! Thank you John," she said to the squire. John gave a bow, and disappeared into the throngs of other campfires, off to find his own dinner. Percival paid him no heed, gesturing to the log across from her. "Come, sit, sit!" 

Charlie quirked an eyebrow and looked to Sonic. With a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder, Sonic forged ahead, a spring in his step. "Sir Percival! Hey, what's the occasion? Need me to help with a dog again?"

The giggle he got in reply was melodious, and he wished to hear it again, no matter how many jokes he had to tell. "No, no, I'm fulfilling a promise! A knight's word should never be broken! Right, Gawaine?" The red echidna muttered something that could have been an agreement or an insult, and returned to dinner. Percival slung her arm around his shoulders and hugged him tightly, then continued talking. "Right! I promised you a story, did I not?"

Sonic studied Gawaine more closely. Big and burly, even out of armor, the knight lived up to his legend. Percival was sitting rather close to him, for friends, and the arm around him wasn't camaraderie. He forced his eyes back to the lady knight and nodded. "Yeah, about how Lancelot's actually not a bag of rocks with a face attached?"

"Quite so, I-." This comparison had caused the other knight to snort, and finally, pull himself out of dinner. Gawaine interrupted Percival with a yawn, and finally, put himself in the conversation.

"Careful there, Percie. Ye go tellin' that and Lance catches you, and he'll be miffed wit ye. Right miffed."

"And what's he going to do, un-knight me? Bugger that."

"Bugger indeed. Carry on then, but I won't save ye."

"Yes you will."

The lilt of the echidna's voice fell silent, and he looked away. "Aye. I'll keep an eye out, you get on wit it."

Settling in with one leg crossed over the other, leaned forward over her legs, Percival began in a tone so low it forced Sonic and Charlie to lean in too. "Well, Lancelot's name is Dulac, because he never really had parents."

"No?" Charlie prompted, excited for storytime. He scooted as far forward as he could, already enraptured. "Then where's he from?"

"Nobody knows. The Lady of the Lake took him in as a child, and that's where Arthur and Merlin found him..."

* * *

"Halt!" Cried Lancelot. "Halt I say! Halt! What are you doing here, you miscreants?! Have at you! Hyah!"

Lancelot galloped at full speed towards the intruders, digging his heels into the sides of his steed. A short little fox, and another hedgehog on a horse, totally unawares! Readying himself for impact, he rocked himself forward, riding barebacked with a long stick outstretched to push that false knight off his horse. _Easy pickings! They will learn for trespassing upon this land, this lake is mine!_ Lancelot pushed the cooking pot he used as a helm further up on his head and aimed his 'lance', getting a better view. The knight and wizard were truly shocked to see him! _Right there, the shoulder, it will knock him square are true and knock him over, and I will be victorious, the great Lancelot-!_

That was not what happened. All of a sudden, with a casual swipe of the intruder's lance, Lancelot found himself tumbling upon the lakeshore, rolling over and over until he came to a stop in the sand. Spluttering and spitting the grains out, his own 'lance' was gone, and his horse had wandered off to graze. "Oh no, Merlyn, I think I've just killed a fool!" Sounded a cry from ahead.

"Well, I could always reanimate his corpse-"

"Not funny, Merlyn! Oh, brave little knight, are you all right?" Lancelot heard the knight dismount his own steed and approach. He scrambled backward in the sand, regaining his feet and tugging at the cooking pot on his head, attempting to see his foe. It wouldn't budge. _Oh no._ No amount of frantic tugging would dislodge it, and the footsteps were coming closer. Now it was joined be a second set! Taking a deep breath, Lancelot did the only thing he could think of.

"Mother!"

"Oh, there's no need to cry for mummy good Ser Knight, I will not-"

Midway through the stranger's words, the area seemed to exhale. The wind, the trees, even the waters and fish of the lake itself seemed to sigh in a defeated fashion. A voice rose up from the lake's now stilled waters, silvery and reflective, like a looking glass. "Truly, Lancelot, I have told you that is not a helm!" Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, emerged. Not a drop of water fell off her quills, perfectly dry skirt and petticoat making a soft swishing noise. Lancelot twisted his ears in vain, listening to her soft steps upon the water, quiet as a skipping stone. The knight had stopped dead in his tracks, as his footsteps upon the silky sand had ceased. Lancelot heard his mother kneel beside him, and felt her gentle tugging on the pot. "This is the third time I've had to help you-!"

"Mother, please, it is truly stuck tight," Lancelot whined. He was reluctant to show any sort of fear in this situation, so he bravely carried on. "And I must do battle! They are intruding upon our lake and must be removed!" 

"Oh, Lancelot, you silly child!" Nimue began to scold, but with a grinding pop, the pot came off his head. Lancelot, triumphant, snatched it back and plopped it on his head. Loosely of course, he didn't wish to repeat the mistake. He whirled around, to boast and challenge for another battle, but the words never came.

The false knight had taken off his helm, and kneeled in the sand. The fox accompanying him as followed suit. Upon closer inspection, the hedgehog was in fact not normal. His quills fell around his fce, a lovely sheen of glittering golden. Darker bands of medallion went up the front quill on either side of his face, and he had a white stripe that came to a point between his eyes, ending at the start of his forehead. The knight was barely older than he was, and Lancelot was startled. He found his voice again, grinning mischievously. "Aha, you yield!" He began, but Nimue took him by the ear.

"What have I told you about attacking guests, Lancelot?" She demanded of the hedgehog in her hand. Suitably chastened, Lancelot fell silent, surly and sulking a touch. His mother released his ear, and, more gently, stroked the top of his head. "I have been waiting for them. This is the boy who will be King, Arthur. I have told you about him before, have I not?"

Shrewd scarlet eyes narrowed in on the bowed not-hedgehog. "This is him?" Lancelot had been told many stories of the future. This was not what he expected of the man who would become king. "I thought he would be taller."

"They all say that," spoke the grey fox, head still bowed. "Sir Puddinghead has growing to do."

"Merlyn, shut up," the golden not-hedgehog commanded. He cleared his throat, and continued. "Oh, Lady of the Lake. I have come for what is mine, the great sword Excalibur."

Sensing he was not to disrupt this, Lancelot took a step back. This was no longer his fight. His mother went on in a commanding voice, her 'Lady' voice as Lancelot called it. "I know. You've traveled far, and you deserve it." Stretching her had out to the lake, Nimue turned her hand in circles. The water began to swirl into a whirlpool, and then it extended down to the lakebed. After a moment of rumbling and the rushing of water, the whirlpool coughed something up. It titled through the air, end over end, until Nimue raised her arm and caught it. A large sword, perfectly polished and not a touch rusted, the grip was pristine and black, and the pommel a deep gold. Nimue, standing proud and tall, offered Arthur the hilt. "It is yours. Rise, King Arthur, and fulfill your destiny."

Arthur lifted his head, ice blue eyes rising to the sword. Then, they slid sidelong, and met Lancelot's own.

The soon-to-be knight felt his breath catch in his throat, and his heart stopped. "My king."

* * *

"So that's how Lancelot got in this whole mess?" 

Percival, standing to re-light the fire, nodded her head. "Yes. That is how he has told it many times before. He hasn't told it recently, though, not since-"

"Not since what, Sir Percival?"

Lancelot's face, malicious and stone-cold in the dark, flickered to life as the flames began to dance. Percival, startled by his voice coming from behind, made a soft 'YEEP!' and jumped to her feet. "Oh, Sir Lancelot! Really, you need to stop sneaking around! I almost fell in the fire!"

The eyes of the knight did not waver from her. "We both know you would not have been harmed." With a rough jerk of his head, he indicated Sonic and Charlie, the latter of whom had previously been dozing. "Why are they here."

Tripping over her words now, Percival brushed herself off. "Well, he helped me with my father today, and I-"

"Helped?!" Lancelot demanded, aggressive and angry at once. "He made it worse! If he had stayed out of it I wouldn't have had to cut the rope on the dog!"

"Oh, calm yourself, you oversized-"

"Hush," Lancelot snarled. Percival fell silent at once, returning to her log. Gawaine, the instigator of the last comment, shut his trap as well. Lancelot turned his furious gaze onto the pair. "Get out. And don't cause any more problems."


	6. The Crossing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for drowning this chapter.

Trouble seemed to follow the hedgehog. No so much Charlie the rabbit, who had stayed by Sonic's side in the mad scramble to escape Lancelot's cutting gaze and threatening words. Sonic, though, he seemed a magnet for trouble. A fellow with eternally bad luck for mundane things, that always pulled victory from the seat of his pants when it counted. As he and his lop-earned friend splashed through the mud puddles, running back for their camp, Sonic couldn't help but scowl. In that scowl, behind the squinted shut eyes and twisted lips, was a thought, turning over and over in his mind. _Well, that story certainly doesn't sound like Lancelot,_ went his inner monologue, as he bounded over a sleeping figure. He looked back over his shoulder to ensure Charlie was following him, and put the pedal to the metal. He could go much faster, but he didn't want to lose his friend in the rush. _What's happened since then that made him such an ass?_

Screeching to a stop, and casting a wall of mud in his wake, Sonic stood still outside his camp. Charlie bounded up soon after, clearly out of breath. He wheezed as he talked, and doubled over, arms around his middle. He refused to fall to his knees in the dirt, as it may not be dirt in it's entirety, but he was close to it. "You're pretty fast there, sir!"

A smile wormed it's way onto Sonic's face, and he patted Charlie's head, ruffling his hair. "Call it a blessing, bud. Come on, we didn't get dinner! Let's go scrounge up some grub, hey?" With an encouraging grin, Sonic crossed the ditch to his camp, and put Lancelot out of his mind, with a vow to avoid him from now on.

* * *

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Sonic rose at the crack of dawn with the rest of the host, when dew still laid on the ground and the world was at rest. Few birds had begun their morning warble, but as Sonic packed his belongings and readied his horse, the song became a symphony. Dew burned off the trees and grass, making way for weak autumn sunshine to pierce the canopy. It wasn't warm at all, and as Sonic passed an extra cloak to Charlie from his mare's saddlebags, he looked up at the sky. There were no clouds, but he was not a fan of the temperature. _It's kinda cold,_ Sonic thought to himself, rolling his shoulders to ease the soreness. "You think it's gonna rain today, Charlie?"

The lop shook his head, ears wiggling. His eyes were bright and happy, excited to have a friend. "No, sir. It won't rain for a while. You see any clouds up there?"

"Well, no," Sonic conceded, scratching the back of his neck and looking up again. "But you can't always trust the clouds. A storm could blow in any minute!"

Charlie, a spring in his step and vigor in his body, offered a grin. "You aren't scared of getting wet, are you?" He teased, wiggling a finger.

 _Dang, called me out!_ Sonic's hand came around to rub his mouth while he searched for an answer. "No," he lied. "Just don't really like it, that's all! My fur takes forever to dry off. I'm sure yours does too!"

A voice from ahead broke the friendly banter. "Then you had best learn to fly," grumped a sheep from his cart ahead of them. It was a small cart with a single horse, therefore the ram could hear them clearly. He was older, his horns curling all the way around, wool somewhat matted. "We ford the river in an hour."

"What?! Isn't there a bridge?!"

"Nope," came the denial, the speaker leaning over to spit in the dirt. On the opposite side of where Sonic was walking, of course, no need to be rude. "Came down two weeks ago in a flash flood."

"You are scared of getting wet!" Charlie chirped, filled with glee at the notion. "Oh, don't worry sir, it's a very safe cross! Made it a hundred times!"

"You're barely a hundred days old!" Sonic spat. Charlie, unaffected by the venom in his tone, bounced alongside him, chattering away in his ear. Sonic let him, as his thoughts were too focused on what hell laid ahead. "And quit calling me sir!"

* * *

"I'm never trusting you again, little buddy."

"Hey!"

The 'safe cross' Charlie had spoken about was magnified through the lens of fear. Most of the hose stood on the other side of the river already, horses grazing in the downtime while the rest made the journey. The river slid, slick and black, across the countryside, like a large snake. The waters appeared slow and sluggish to the naked eye, but rivers could be deceiving. Even the most gentle of streams could be filled and turned into a torrent. Sonic was filled with visions of getting swept under, carried away by the current, he couldn't swim and he doubted anybody else could save him, he'd be lost forever and-

"Hello, earth to Sonic?" Charlie was bouncing up and down, snapping his fingers. "It's our turn next. Come on, you'll be fine!" 

Sonic gulped, shuddered, and looked to his side. The ram from before had packed up his cart and steadied his horse, having jumped down from his seat to lead it by the reins. Sonic rather liked him, he had a quick wit and sharp tongue, but was friendly despite it all. _Are we expected to make this alone? No, they'd send a guide! Who else would be at the shore to guide us but-_

"Lancelot."

The word had been huffed out through gritted teeth. _I wanted to avoid him, not have him escort me!_ The black hedgehog was down the shore, talking to the ram, but Sonic narrowed his eyes at him. He couldn't help the disfavor that rose in his chest, much as he tried to swallow it down. Maybe it was the water that made him irritable. _Or maybe it's the fact that he kicked me out of the fire pit because he didn't like his old self coming to light._

"What about Lancelot?" Charlie queried, blinking up at him with innocent curiosity. Swallowing his hatred, Sonic gave him a smirk that he knew looked more like a sneer. 

"Nothing. I just hate water."

The young buck brightened immediately. "Oh! Well I'll hold your hand, you'll be alright! Don't worry, I'm an expert at river crossing!"

"I'll take your word for it."

Lancelot showed no indication of remembering the night prior. His own curl of the lip was a natural expression. Out of armor, he was no less intimidating in light clothing. Black linen stretched itself over his legs alone, and shirtless and impatient. He dripped with river water from the waist down, clearly having made this trip several times before. "Come on. I have another fifth of the host to move. Get your horse and let's go!" Lancelot barked, before turning his back on the blue hog.

Glaring daggers at the other hedgehog's back, Sonic gripped the reins of his mare and carried on. The water was ice cold and made him take a sharp breath as he plunged his feet in. The discomfort he felt only grew as the water came up to his shins, then his knees, and it was to his upper thighs by the time it finally seemed to even out and stop getting deeper. His breaths were shallow and his unhappiness palpable, causing everyone around him to catch on. Charlie, who was much shorter than Sonic, was up to his waist in the icy flow and looked like his claims of being 'an expert' were exaggerated. Feeling bad for him, Sonic reached down to take the boy's hand, plunged in the water and holding onto the ram's cart.

"Yike!" Went Charlie as Sonic's hand connected with his. This exclamation made the already upset horses neigh and startle, spooking all parties involved. Water splashed around them as two tons of large beast rocked and thrashed, masters desperately grabbing for the jerking reins. Lancelot shouted, the ram commanded his horse to calm down, and Sonic lunged for his horse, but it was no good. Water crashed up and over his shoulders as the cart rocked on it's wheels, and Charlie gripped onto it for dear life. Sonic, already off-balance from trying to grab his mare's reins, slipped on a rock. He lost his footing entirely, and his head went under the surface.

 _This was why I didn't like water!_ Sonic thought in a panic, shutting his eyes against the water as it swept him away, downstream. He could hear the shouting of his compatriots growing dimmer under the surface as he was carried off, water filling his ears and covering him up. He kicked out wildly with his legs but could find no purchase. Scrambling for any sort of advantage, he righted himself, then tumbled head over heels as he hit a patch of turbulence. Currents eddied and flowed, throwing his body this way and that. He hadn't been breathing deeply before the fall, now his lungs screamed for a break, a breath of air.

He forced his eyes open, looking for shore, a rock, anything to cling to. The water was dark and murky, and it stung his eyes as he looked for any sign of safety. None was available, as he dashed his limbs against the riverbed as the water pulled him further under. Thrashing in the undertow, Sonic's foot struck rock and sand, gaining him a bit of a foothold. Knowing it was now or never as his lungs and limbs burned, he launched himself upward for a breath. The light far above grew closer and closer, and in a last, desperate attempt, his head broke the surface. Panting and trying to tread water, he cast his eyes about wildly. Land land land land land! He cried out in his mind, taking in as much air as he could. A practice in madness to try and swim against an autumn river, the cold had turned his hands and feet numb, and a final wave swept over his head. 

_This is it, I'm gonna drown!_ Sonic's mind proclaimed as the light of the surface dwindled more and more. It was fading away, and Sonic reached a hand up for it just as a dark shape glided overhead. His instinct kicked into overdrive. _Or get eaten by a fish!_ To escape was futile, but it didn't mean Sonic didn't kick anyway, as the river current finally began to slow. It was still deep, but now ponderous and lazy once more, not that it helped Sonic much. He turned over and attempted to swim away, but whatever desired to eat him grabbed him around the chest with an arm and dragged him back up.

 _Did fish have arms?_ None that he had ever seen. Sonic's eyes, now burning with the dirty river water, strained to see anything in the dark. It was useless, even as his head broke water, as his eyes were blurry and sore. Blinking furiously and rubbing his eyes with a hand to clear the water out, he kicked his legs and struck something solid behind him. Whatever decided to eat him was swimming them both back to shore, and had a firm grip. Freeing himself in the water would do him no good, he'd just go back to drowning. It was only when his feet finally hit the slope of the shore that he made a mad dash up it, claws gripping the stone. He threw himself onto dry land and immediately took to coughing up the water in his mouth, scraping to get his feet under him, and failing.

The dark figure, having hauled itself out beside him, crouched at his side. It began to rub it's knuckles, up and down, into the space between his back quills. "Are you alright?!" It asked, giving his back a cursory slap to dislodge more water. "Did you breathe any in?"

 _I cannot believe this._ "Lancelot?!" 

"What about that is so bloody surprising? Can you breathe, you simpleton?!"

Too tired and shocked to fight it, Sonic collapsed to the floor and coughed again. His mouth tasted of river weed and fish, but he felt no water in his lungs. "I'm fine. I didn't inhale any of that sludge."

"Thank Chaos for that," the knight huffed. Sir Lancelot in the flesh, now utterly soaked, began to wring out his quills. His pants clung tightly to his legs, and his usually up-swept style now all fell down. He looked almost like the man he'd just saved. His chest fur was plastered against his body, nearly transparent in places. "I wanted to make sure you were going to live before I yelled at you." 

Emotions leaped up to the fore, and Sonic was on the defensive, rolling onto his back to sit up. "For what?!"

"Falling into the river!" Lancelot snapped back, his temper sparking up in his eyes. "I had to halt the procession to go and save you!"

"What for?!"

"Because it looks bad when men die under my watch, simple peasants or not!"

 _Simple?! Why, the nerve of this guy!_ "And how'd you know you weren't going to drown yourself?"

_"Because I grew up in a fucking lake and swam a mile every day, you dolt!"_

The shout was so ferocious it startled the birds from the nearby trees, kicking up a raucous cacophony of noise. Both hedgehogs stared at one another, breathing heavily. Neither of them moved, or broke the stare, for a long while. After what felt like an eternity, the wind blew over Lancelot's back, and made him shudder. hutting his eyes and releasing a breath, he offered Sonic his hand. "I apologize for my outburst. But you're at the head of the host until I say otherwise."

"What? Why? I would think you hated me by now," Sonic growled, taking the hand regardless. His knees felt like jello, wobbling as Lancelot pulled him up. The other knight put Sonic's arm around his shoulders and began to walk. Slowly, so Sonic could keep pace with his exhausted body.

"Because trouble seems to follow you, and I want an eye on trouble in all it's forms."

"Flattering."

"There's moss in your quills. I could be much crueler to you."

"Feh!"

"Feh yourself."


	7. Marisu

Traveling at the head of the host was not a glamorous affair like Sonic had hoped. Yes, he was now traveling amongst knights, and was no longer analyzing his every step to avoid unsavory piles dropped by the patrons in line before him. He could see where they were going, smell fresh air rather than the stench of horses, which was no longer pleasing when mixed with sweat. He had room to stretch, and was surrounded by people he had only know legends of.

Never meet your heroes, they say, and for good reason. Charlie, still filled with optimism because he had Sonic's company, was taken with the experience of leading the host. Sonic let him ride his mare all he liked and abided by the chattering from the rabbit, but his attention was split. Lancelot, true to his word, had forced Sonic to stay in sight at all times. This meant that he rode, high on his black palfrey, and looked down on everyone and everything. He didn't wear his armor while traveling, and in fact had not put it on since he took it off at the river. This close proximity allowed Sonic and the knight plenty of time together, ahead of the other knights. They were somewhat crass, joking and spitting and generally, being a lot of puffed-up, jovial men and women. Sonic liked Percival, and Gawaine to a lesser degree, but the other knights? He didn't care for them enough to learn their names, and at large attempted to ignore them. He passed his days by heckling Lancelot at every turn, hoping he would budge on his decision to force Sonic to the front. It didn't work.

_"When you were carrying me back from the river, all your fur was pretty soaked."_

_"I had swum a mile downstream to retrieve you."_

_"Yeah. What's that scar on your chest? Right there, by the upper right of your fluff? My right, not yours. It doesn't look like a sword slash."_

_"It was from a beast."_

_"What kind?"_

_"Shut up and march."_

That was the most meaningful conversation they had, in the three-day journey to their next destination. Weaseling it out of Lancelot had been a chore, but he finally got something approaching an answer. They were heading to another village to pick up something for Lancelot, 'recruit' more men, and then? They were off to the front. What front, Sonic was unsure, of that he had not been informed. The knowledge, however vague, made him drag his feet and put him in a dour mood that not even Charlie could break. The joy of a boy riding a horse was typically infectious, but with Charlie on one side, and Lancelot five feet ahead? Sonic could not pull himself from his dejected state.

It was a bleak, overcast mid-morning when the host crested the last rise before the town. Sonic, still groggy from his early-morning wake-up call, could not be bothered to take in what scenery there was. Great. A village. Grass, trees, buildings. That's fun. Just like mine. It was not, in fact, just like his. It was a bigger, more bustling, with people wandering amok in the fields on the stunted hills. Sheep were bleating in the meadows, cows had been set to graze, and in the distance, a plume of black smoke rose. Sonic squinted his eyes at it, and finally forced himself to participate in life for the day. "Is that a blacksmith?"

"Yes," Lancelot said, pulling up short and surveying the area. What he was looking for, Sonic didn't know, but he seemed to content himself at last and looked away. Lancelot's gaze turned to the blue hedgehog at his side. "I have to pick something up. The host will carry on, and we will rejoin them later."

"We?!" Sonic exclaimed, jumping back a touch and raising his arms. "I never said anything about going down there!"

The ruby eyes set upon him hardened at once. "You have no choice in this matter. I am keeping you with me so you don't start more shit. Get your horse, we're leaving as soon as I tell Gawaine to lead on." Lancelot snapped his reins and turned around, using his horse to clear a path for him. As his form retreated into the throng of bodies, Sonic helped Charlie down from his mare, and cursed every single member of his bloodline.

* * *

The cursing did not help. In a span of fifteen minutes, he and his knight were trotting down the streets of the town. They were cobbled nicely, and traffic was busy but manageable. The neighing and whinnying of draft horses, the rumble of cart wheels, and distant rumbling of thunder assaulted Sonic's ears. Even from atop his mare, he was not a fan of this village. Too busy. He preferred pastures, and open space, and-

"Head out of the clouds, boy."

Descending back into reality, Sonic blinked as a raindrop hit his eyelid. Wiping it off with a testy, irritable flick of his finger, he glowered at Lancelot. The knight had jumped off his horse, and was beckoning him into the blacksmith's shop.

It was not a humble thing, with a painted sign hanging above the door. It was a symbol Sonic had never seen before, flanked by twin fox tails. The shop had no name that he could see. _Must do business by word of mouth, I guess,_ he concluded as he tied his horse to the post beside Lancelot's. The blacksmith's was large on the outside, and made of stone, and as Sonic pushed his way inside, the nature of it became clear.

A large, polished stone counter sectioned off the front quarter of the building from the back three fourths. Behind it stood a somewhat tall woman, dressed in a leather jerkin, a white undershirt, and rolled-up breeches. Her fur was once yellow, but now appeared to have greyed from years of smoke from the bellows. Bellows that a younger man were pumping with every fiber of his being, stoking the fire before he got to work on his newest project. He spared but a moment to look up and wave to Sonic and the knight, and then got back to work. In the meantime, Lancelot had already approached the woman, who didn't bother to take the piece of stray she was chewing out of her mouth. "You're Lancelot." A statement, not a question.

"I am. I understand I placed an order," he stated, as Sonic shimmied up to his side. The woman glanced at him, then angled her black-tipped ears backward.

"Yeah. I got your stuff," she replied, digging under the counter. At once, a cloth bag was placed upon it with a muffled clink of metal hitting stone. "Mighty fine handiwork, difficult order," she carried on, as Lancelot opened the bag. Sonic peeked over his shoulder at the contents.

He felt like he had been jipped. "These are just shoes!"

Indeed they were shoes. Silver and red sabatons, with some sort of clockwork inside that ticked. Ignoring him entirely, Lancelot lifted a shoe, and placed his hand inside. Something he did made the shoes flare to life, a riot of yellow light that made Sonic startle, taking a step toward the door. Oblivious, or perhaps uncaring, Lancelot spoke. "These are not just shoes," he breathed, utterly enraptured. "These are clockwork sabatons, and the finest pair I have ever seen made. They will fit wonderfully, and they're padded so nicely. How do they glide?" He questioned the woman, who had gained a smirk.

"Like an eagle without a master."

"Perfect." Placing the shoe back in it's pouch, Lancelot tied the back shut with string. "I cannot pay you enough, but will this suffice?" He asked, reaching into his quills and producing a bag of coins. He dropped them on the counter, where they glittered with gold and silver light through the small opening in the top. "I made sure some of it was silver. Had I paid in gold and you started using it, I assume you'd be robbed."

The woman took her sweet time assessing the tender, even going so far as to pick up a piece and nibble it. Lancelot waited patiently for her to answer. "Nah, this isn't enough either."

"I beg your pardon?" Lancelot asked, incredulous at the boldness of the statement. Sonic was delighted to see Lancelot look anything but angry or smug, and didn't step in.

"You know who made these shoes?" The woman questioned. Without waiting for an answer, she tilted her head at the boy in the back. "My son. He improved the design and built them in a week. Didn't eat or sleep hardly at all, like a boy possessed."

"His skill is commendable," Lancelot began, before being cut off.

"I'm not done. He's got potential, and he's gonna waste it here. Take him with you to Camelot. Then I'll consider myself paid in full."

You could hear a pin drop in the relative silence. Even the boy had stopped hammering away at his work, pausing to listen. His ears were pricked to catch every word spoken. Lancelot's words were slow, deliberate in their meaning. "You want me to take the boy to _Camelot?"_

"Find him a job. He'll go far there, and he'll be able to keep up with your shoes. You don't want them breaking, do you?"

Doubt had crept across Sonic and Lancelot's faces both, but after a long moment of consideration, the knight nodded once. "If he has a horse to ride, I will take him."

"Consider it done." 

Sonic raised his eyes to the fox boy's, and felt a mutual connection with him. Betrayal. Sonic yearned to speak out against it, but Lancelot had already turned around, shoes in his arms, and would not allow argument.

* * *

The name of the boy, Sonic had discovered on the ride to catch up with the war host, was 'Marisu'. Lancelot had shut that down at once, claiming the name would be 'too hard' for the unrefined of the city. "Do you have a nickname?" He asked, cantering along so the fox's horse could keep up. It was an older thing, clearly meant for hard pulling work, but it rose to the challenge with grace.

The stammer in Marisu's voice was born genuine terror, and Sonic felt bad for him once more. "Some c-call me Ta-Tails," he squeaked out. This seemed enough for Lancelot, who nodded once. 

"Tails, then," he repeated, trying the name out for himself. After that, no more words were spoken, and 'Tails' joined the crew of Lancelot's charges, now three strong.

Once the trio had rejoined the main force, Sonic attempting to make friends with 'Tails', as best he could. Small talk was not his forte, but he needed a friend. Sonic could tell. Lancelot ignored it, and that was the greatest favor he could have bestowed. "So, Marisu huh? That's weird. Where's it from?"

Eager for a friendly presence, Tails latched on immediately. "It's from my father! It means 'Miles', apparently, and momma wanted to name me that! But papa got his way in the end. Marisu it is. But you can just call me Tails, since that's what... Everyone else..." He trailed off, and his eyes filled with a distant sadness. He had been taken from his home, just like so many other boys. Sonic was not deterred by his screw-up, and pressed on.

"Tails sounds good to me! Hey, you like to run?"

And so, a friendship was built gradually, little by little, as the skies above opened into a light smattering of rain. The pair of boys, soon joined by Charlie, had a grand time chatting and trading stories. Sonic even broke out his lute, which Lancelot had previously not allowed, and they sang songs together to pass the time on the march. Sonic didn't even care he was wet, in the moment! He was having too grand a time with his new-found pals. More of Tails' story was extracted, as the trio broke camp for the evening and attempted to find dry wood and a place to sleep for the night.

Miles' father was from a distant land, and had shipwrecked in the Grand Kingdom a long time ago. He was away on 'business' as his mother called it, and would be back soon. "Or so she says," the fox boy claimed with a shrug, tossing a soaked stick over his shoulder. The fire built by the trio was small and somewhat pitiful, but they had their joy to incense them. Not even Lancelot, plodding over to join them by the meager warmth, could kill their mood. 

What could kill it was something magical, and magic was what happened. The logs began to try beneath their very bodies, and as the assembled four looked up, the water condensed. A large puddle formed to the side of the firepit, far enough away as not to quench it, and the haze from the campfires began to clear. Lancelot scrambled to his feet as the boys abandoned ship, huddling together a good seven feet away as the puddle began to glow. The surface smoothed, then turned silver, and a woman emerged.

A short hedgehog with bright pink quills and glittering green eyes, Tails recognized her at once. "Lady Nimue," he supplied quietly, as every loop and bit of lace of her blue dress took form. Lancelot, of course, chivalric to the end, bowed his head to her.

"Mother. What do you need from me?"

Lady Nimue's expression, for just a moment, was crestfallen. It was almost beseeching, but the expression was quickly wiped. A mask of business replaced it. "King Arthur sent me with a message?"

The shock in Lancelot's voice was no laughing matter. "You?! With a message?!"

"Yes. He wants you to abandon the war front and return home at once. The war has been postponed."


	8. Rose-Tinted Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major DV tw for this one.

The sprint to Camelot could have made the Olympic runners of today blush. Upon the delivery of Nimue's message, made all the more strange by Arthur using a woman of myth to deliver it, had put fire in Lancelot's feet. With an emotion Sonic could not identify, Lancelot had whipped his war host into a frenzy. The knights, eager to return home, had jumped on board with the plan to make for Camelot as fast as they were able. From what Sonic understood, they were not far. At a casual pace, it was three, perhaps four days if bad weather hit on horseback. With peasants, the journey could have taken a week, and Lancelot would not abide by that. Displaying some skill in negotiation, bartering, and barking orders, Lancelot had strong-armed several knights, and King Pellinore, to stay back with the host at large. They would get to Camelot when they could. In the meantime, Gawaine, Percival, Lamorak, and himself, would charge ahead in case the need for knights became dire. The nature of the message was alarming enough for them all to agree : This was the best course of action. The host could afford to be left behind if Arthur needed them that badly.

Sonic, still under Lancelot's 'care', was forced to come with. Tails and Charlie were taken too, though the matter of transport became an issue. Something about this affair had Lancelot in such a tiff that he surrendered his charger to Tails and Charlie, who weighed less than a knight when combined, and told them not to hurt it by doubling up on the saddle.. Sonic's mare, having been ridden lightly and slowly for days, could keep up with the other knights with only a minor struggle. Thus, with a final wave goodbye to the silly King and the hedge knights left with him to protect the host, they were off.

Making record time, Sonic suspected, they made it to Camelot in two and a half days. The landscape somehow became dark, the grass turning a deeper hue. From light spring green to a color like a fine emerald, brown patches emerged now and then to marr the beauty. They thundered past fields of crops and cattle, jumped over smaller streams and creeks and forcing their way across bridges. They were a force of nature, and could not be stopped for anything.

The consequence of this was the horses. By eating and sleeping in the saddle whenever possible, time had been saved, but the horses were spent, and Sonic tried his best to soothe his own as Castle Camelot came into view. It was a large, imposing fortress of a home for any king, and Sonic guessed that was how Arthur liked it. Greenery hung off the battlements where guards walked and called orders to one another, and the walls surrounding the castle were hundreds of feet high and a good fifteen feet thick, grey stone clashing with the colors inside. It was a castle built to withstand an army of siege weapons, and some patched-in bits of the wall bore the scars of such truths. Camelot was hundreds of times bigger than anything any of the boys had ever seen, and even in their exhausted stupor, their mouths opened in wonder. Vast and terrible, it was nearly a scar upon the landscape. As Sonic approached, his horse trotting for lack of energy to gallop, he noticed the moat. As wide and as deep as the river he fell into, if not deeper, he couldn't help but swallow. He still remembered the sucking grasp of the river, and the relief Charlie had shown when he was saved. Fortunately, there was no need to ford it. The drawbridge lowered to grant him, and the knights with him, entry, long before they reached it. The guards were expecting them.

"It is nice to be back in Camelot," Lamorak stated, as his horse slowed to meander down the main road. The cobbles clicked under his horse's hooves as he spoke. A man of many complaints and many more stories about his own greatness, his cocky attitude often got him into trouble. Especially with Gawaine. "I can't wait to see my favorite courtesans!"

"And they cannae wait to get yer coin," Gawaine fired back. Always eager to pick a fight with Lamorak, Sonic thought this was the third time he'd heard something similar. The green hawk opened his mouth to say something smart, but Lancelot raised his hand and silenced them both.

"Quiet. The both of you. I've listened to you bicker for months and I'm going to remove one of your heads next time it happens, so button it up, will you? You're dismissed to... Whatever you like. We'll meet tomorrow afternoon at the Table, now shove off." The threats from the Ill-Made Knight fell flat. He was too full of vigor about something or other, and his mood would not be dissuaded. His words were sloppy and no longer as refined, and as the other three knights left, bickering amongst themselves the moment Lancelot abandoned them, Sonic couldn't help but wonder what was up.

"So uh... What about us?" The question was posed by Sonic, and hung in the air a moment.

Lancelot, seemingly remembering that Sonic existed, blinked and turned around in his saddle. He was lost in his own little world, that was clear enough. "Oh. You lot. Well, go to the royal stables, the hands there will recognize my horse. You, in particular," a pointed finger was extended in Sonic's direction. "Will care for it. I have seen your skill with these beasts and want to test it. Tell the men there I demand they give you food and shelter until tomorrow when I figure something out."

"Hey," Tails spoke up. He had found his voice in the hustle to Camelot, and now would not stand for injustice. "That's not fair! You can't just-"

Lancelot kicked his horse, and was off, as fast as he could force his horse to go without trampling anyone. The boys shared a look amongst themselves, and sighed. Charlie spoke up at last, his meek voice cutting through the bewildered silence.

"What stables does he mean? There's two of them on this street alone."

* * *

The upper halls of Camelot castle had become dark, and cold. Servants moved about in an ethereal way, floating along like their feet barely touched the floor. They passed around Lancelot like water in a stream around a rock. Their slippered feet made no noise as they ran items and messages amongst the beehive of activity that took place in the main chambers of the castle. The lower floors were full of light and life, people going about their lives, cooks and scullery maids, pages, squires, stableboys and more. It was a hub, this castle, on the bottom floors and the courtyards. Ladies tittering over tea and the latest bit of court gossip, gossip that the handmaidens would take to the peasants at the walls, gossip the peasants would distribute into Camelot at large. Information traveled at the speed of boredom, and there was plenty of boredom to go around. The mind-numbing terror of war had become so commonplace that the citizens were tired of it's taste, and instead went about their day. The tidbits of information they got from the ladies and lords of the court would have to suffice to keep them sated.

That was the lower portion of the castle. In the upper chambers resided the men of standing. Knights, lords at rest, private chambers and the wizard's tower. The Queen had long since abandoned these drafty areas, preferring instead to sequester herself away towards the middle of the castle, where she claimed the water ran hot, and the holes were better plugged. That left mainly Arthur and his knights, when they were around, to populate the area. Lancelot himself had private chambers here, very close to what used to be Arthur and Guenever's bed chambers, before the Queen left her post and ventured down the stairs. He did not frequent them near as often as he once did. The realization of it twisted his heart, but he squared his shoulders and moved on. Shouldering his way past the rapidly decreasing amount of servants, he turned a corner and stopped dead. He knew what lay beyond the grand door in the midst of this hallway. Darkness seemed to seep from it, absorbing the light from the candle he carried. _Am I meant to be here? Does he want me here?_ The question oozed it's way into his brain, making a choking feeling rise in his throat. His breathing stopped, then quickened, enough for the flame on the wick to dance wildly.

Lancelot gave a snort, then shook his head to get rid of the brain spiders weaving lies. He commanded his feet to move forward, deeper into the lair of the king. When he moved far enough down the darkest hall, the dwindling number of servants became zilch. He was now totally alone. Nobody dared enter this place unless called, with the carpet becoming plush underfoot. Round the corner the way he came, it was worn thinner, but here? There were so few footsteps that it was almost new, still springy and colorful. Lancelot's new clockwork sabatons, having been nicely broken in, made no sound as he plodded towards his goal. He forced himself to pick his head up, rallied the flagging hope in his heart. _Cheer up, Lancelot!_ He forced himself to think, taking a deep inhale and producing a smile. He knew it did not reach his eyes. _Arthur will be happy to see you! You've been gone for weeks. He'll gather you up in a hug, and things will be right as rain. You'll see._

Even sound itself seemed not to venture here, as Lancelot paused before the door. It was eerily hushed here, as if the world held it's breath. The scones on the walls flickered with purple and blue fire, unnatural colors that radiated malice. They had been this way for a while, though Merlyn claimed to have nothing to do with the matter. They never needed to be replaced, and cast a ghostly hue over Lancelot's features as he swallowed twice to steel himself. His hand shook as he raised it to knock on the door, and his breathing came ragged as the sound boomed down the hallway. Once, twice, he used the brass lion'-head knocker. There was no reply. Lancelot's own mind fought itself, his heart pulled him forward, his common sense pulled him back.

 _The heart wants what it wants._ Lancelot carefully pushed the door open, making sure it creaked enough so he would not startle King Arthur at work in his study. His breath came in a short gasp, and then evened out all at once as he saw his king was in no danger. Hunched over a writing desk, quill in hand, he said nothing to the invading hedgehog. His hand did not move, the quill scratching was silenced. No words were spoken as Lancelot slipped inside and shut the door behind him. Arthur made no move to address or even acknowledge his presence. A slight jolt of recognition shot through Lancelot's body, and he fell to a knee at once.

The impact rattled his bone, making his weakened, sore knees cry out in pain. He knew what would happen next. Arthur would show compassion for his almost imperceptible pain, put him to bed despite his complaints, and they would be together. Ears tilted forward and eyes closed by hopeful, Lancelot hoped for a word. A noise. Anything that indicated Arthur cared he was here.

Instead, the quill scratching resumed. Lancelot's heart plummeted into his stomach. This was a breach of etiquette, but he was... He didn't dare finish the word. "Sire," he put forward, tone respectful. "I have returned from the war host and received your message."

The quill scratched, scraped, moved across the paper in ways that sounded deafening to Lancelot's ears. He tried again, desperate to not let his words and inflection betray his true feelings. "I have set the knights to their winter activities. It will be an early one this year, according to mother."

 _Sctch scritch scitch kritch_ , went the quill. It was the only sound in the room, aside from Lancelot's own soft inhale and exhale. 

This was maddening. He yearned to a degree he didn't know one could, heart straining against the bonds of chivalry and etiquette. He cleared his throat, and went on in a small, small voice; "I thought perhaps we could... Spend time together."

The _scritch_ ing noises stopped, and Arthur gently set the quill down. He clasped his hands together atop the table, as Lancelot opened his eyes and looked up through his lashes, head bowed. The king scarely seemed to move at all in the moments that followed. "I did not send for you, Lancelot, Knight of the Lake."

"No, sire."

"Yet here you are, interrupting my very, very busy work."

"Yes, sire."

"For something as trivial as _loneliness."_

The words pierced Lancelot's heart in a soft place, where only Arthur could deliver such a barb. It stung, and badly, but he blinked fiercely and bowed his head even lower. "Yes, sire. Apologies, sire." This was such a corrupted, twisted version of the old script, Lancelot said nothing as Arthur rose from his chair. The king got up and walked a circle around the Ill-Made Knight, talking as he went, deep violet eyes glinting with malevolence.

"If I wanted your company I would have _sent,_ for your company. If I didn't want it, I would not have sent for it. I did not send for you. What does that mean, Lancelot?"

The hedgehog let out a small, quavering exhale of air. "You did not want my company," he responded, voice smaller than before.

"Very good. Now get out, Lancelot." Arthur turned away, making back for his writing desk.

Unable to take blatant rejection like this, Lancelot struggled to his feet. His knee was screaming protest at the cold floor, and now the sudden movement, but the knight did not care. "But, Arthur, please, I-!"

Wrong choice. Wrong decision. The hand that whirled around to come across his face was quick and decisive. It took Lancelot square across the jaw and face and was not softened for him. It didn't topple the knight, but certainly startled him, as he stepped back in shock. Lancelot put a shaking hand up to the now-sore cheek, and put his ears down as Arthur continued. "Bah, you don't listen, do you Lancelot? You never listen! If I wanted someone who never listened to me I would have promoted Gawaine or Galahad!"

 _Galahad._ Lancelot remained standing, but his eyes began to water at the admonishments. He took another step back, and Arthur turned his back on him. "Get out, Lancelot. Now. Do not bother me again."

"Y-Yes, sire, at once sire." Lancelot stammered out, stepping rapidly backward towards the door. Arthur returned to his chair in one swift motion and sat down, picking up his quill. Like nothing had ever happened. The knight turned to the door and was about to step out of it when the king spoke again. The words were cold, chilling even, crawling down his spine with rejection and loathing.

"Oh, and Lancelot? Go send for Sir Percival. Don't tell a servant to do it. _You_ do it."


	9. Repercussions

After Lancelot had so unceremoniously abandoned them all at the front gates of the great capital city, it had taken a few hours of aimless wandering for the intrepid trio to find their way. The townspeople were courteous and polite, but many of them were of no help at all. After an hour of wrong directions, alleyways that led to nothing and almost getting mugged once, the unlikely 'heroes' made their way back to the gate. Heading straight forward, they made it to the castle gates and were instructed to take a back way. Stepping over puddles of a dubious nature and other such rubbish, the end goal was in sight: The royal stables. They were ushered in quickly, as Lancelot had made their arrivals known when he stormed into Castle Camelot. His palfrey was there, drinking all the water it could and generally having itself a well-deserved break. It was faring better than Sonic's mare, who was unaccustomed to such hard travel, and Lancelot's charger. Having been ridden double for a long period of time, the poor thing needed a nice rest and proper food.

Jumping off his horse to leave it in the care of the stablehands around him, Sonic led the charger off, gently, to its own stall to set about putting it to rights. It was merely tired and deserved a lie-down, and the ornery thing didn't mind a new master for a moment. It had generally pitched a fit about its riders for a day or two, but now it was simply too bushed to do so. Tails and Charlie had hopped off when they entered and sat on a bale of hay opposite the charger's stall. While Sonic worked, the three shared a discussion, ignoring the whinnies and snorts of the beasts behind them. 

"It was awfully nice of him to just leave us without directions," Tails remarked, having put a piece of straw in his mouth. He picked the habit of gnawing on it from his mother, clearly. A stress habit, and he certainly had been under stress. Taken from his home and then ridden a week's journey across the country, Sonic was impressed he hadn't cracked.

Charlie, kicking his feet against the bale beside Tails, was still looking at the bright side of things. "Well, he took off in a hurry!" The lop pointed out, leaning back on his hands. "It must have been important! And he ran to the castle, so it was probably something to do with the king!"

"I'd wager you're right," came Sonic's reply, as he emptied a bucket of water into the charger's trough. It took to slurping it down gratefully, and Sonic attempted to locate feed as he spoke. Something good, he deserved it after putting up with the ordeal of the sprint. "Being head of that Round Table or whatever probably gives him some royal clout. Wonder if he could do us a favor?"

"Oh, Sonic," a new voice proclaimed from the other end of the stables. All three heads turned to behold Sir Percival, still fully armored, enter the building with a smile on her face. "If you need anything, you can just ask for it! I would be happy to help you."

Following up on her rear came Gawaine. He was clearly in a mood, brow furrowed and arms crossed. It was not his normal glower, but rather something approaching a sulk. He must have been told news he didn't like. His unhappy attitude spread into his words, as he, without looking at the assembled boys, immediately jumped to being unpleasant. "Aye, ye wannae help everyone an' their pet cats."

Unfazed by this, Percival threw a glowing look towards the echidna. "Do be polite! You're just upset because I am leaving."

The line between Gawaine's brows deepened. Devolving into muttering, he said nothing further. Triumphant, Percival turned her warm atmosphere onto Sonic, who had been startled into silence by the exchange. "Leaving?" He asked, his voice coming out in a squeak. Embarrassed, he changed his inflection and spoke up, louder this time. "Why are you leaving?"

The Knight of the Grail grinned, showing a pair of pretty fangs as she passed the assorted boys. Tails and Charlie's heads followed her as she went, patting each horse on the nose as she passed the stall. "A quest! A grand quest, a quest set to all the Pellinores! The quest to find and slay the Questing Beast!"

"Oh!" Charlie piped up, wiggling in his seat. "I've heard of that! It gets its name from the sound it makes in its belly!"

The addition to her story made Percival positively fizzle with excitement. "Yes! It brays like a hundred hounds after a fox, a deep and terrible noise that strikes fear into your heart!" For the purpose of the audience, Percival made a loud noise of her own. A cross between an angry bull and a horse's scream, Sonic thought it was apt. Percival clearly lived for the show, leaping upon a bale of hay to continue her story.

"It has the feet of a heart, the body of a great spotted cat! A head and neck like a serpent, too!"

Tailed gasped from his seat, leaning forward to absorb the tale. "That sounds awfully dangerous!"

"Oh it is, and that is why the Pellinores must chase it forevermore! To constantly hunt it, lest it start killing and eating people!"

"It _eats people?!"_ Sonic shouted over the back of the charger. It was too exhausted to protest the noise, and flicked its ears.

"Well. Not that we've seen," Percival confessed, rubbing a finger under her nose. "But a creature that terrible surely does! My father has been lonely this past month or two and asked me to accompany him!"

"I wish he'd take your brother."

"This will give you and Lamorak the perfect chance to bond!" Scolded Percival, now having jumped off her hay bale and moved down the stalls. Sonic and his friends could only watch incredulously at the banter, looking back and forth. Like a cricket match with no winner.

"Oh, aye. I'm gonna bond him to the back of a horse and give it a slap on the-"

"You will do absolutely no such thing! I command you be nice to Lamorak! And furthermore," she added, opening a stall and leading out a horse. A white palfrey, elegantly groomed and eager to be off, the horse readily followed her. It had already been suited up by another stablehand while Sonic and company were talking. Percival raised her gauntlet-clad hand and pointed it at Sonic. "Be nice to him too! Get these boys set up nicely, since Lancelot is playing serf."

"Me?!" Gawaine cried, looking at Sonic with something akin to the expression one might make when stepping into something unpleasant.

"Yes you, to all involved! I have to catch my father before he gets too far lost. I'm certain Tails will find a job in the local forge, and Sonic is already here as a stablehand. And-" Percival paused, one foot in the stirrup, about to mount her horse. With a glance at Charlie, she continued, "And I'm sure he would find easy work as a page. Do get them set up, darling, won't you? I love you, and I'll send you a message as quick as I can!"

"Wait a minute here Percie, you cannae just-"

But she cannae already had, and was gone with a flick of her wrists. Sonic sized up Gawaine, as the echidna did the same. Meeting eye to eye with similar, hard-eyed stares, finally, Gawaine snorted. "Aye. I suppose I could do what she said."

Feeling relief course through his body, Sonic sighed, his shoulders slumping. He offered a weak smile, and a weaker thumbs up as his eyes went to his friends. They offered similarly pitiful smiles. "Coolio, big guy. I heard tell about a forge there?"

* * *

Waltzing through Camelot was a largely uneventful affair. Many people parted around Gawaine, which was understandable. His steps were heavy and his temper black, grumbling under his breath. Sonic could see why. _Abandoned by his lover and then forced to escort us peons around. And get us job, too! Surprised he hasn't knocked our heads off our shoulders yet._ Walking along with his arms crossed behind his head, Sonic got a very quick crash course in Camelot and it's inhabitants.

By taking back streets and dipping through alleys, one could cross the city in a manner of minutes, traffic permitting. The forge was close to the stables, very close, in fact. Cordoned off to itself on a back street, it was made of solid stone and kept away from the thatched rooves of the homes. It was double the size of Tails' old one, and had living quarters attached. Gawaine spent a good amount of time negotiating Tails' pay and living arrangements, as the todd wandered about the facility. Sonic and Charlie, happy to see the somewhat dejected fox perk up, followed him. Tails yammered on about every bit and piece of the equipment, the metals, and the machinery used to produce the weaponry, that by the time he was done? Sonic felt a little like he could run a forge himself. 

It was a few hours at least by the time the returned to the stables. Tired and thoroughly worn out by the day, Sonic's legs were heavy, and his eyelids too. It had gone from high noon to early evening, and all members of the group of four were ready to crash. Miles and Charlie were closest of all, leaning against the rough wooden wall and letting their eyelids drift closed a moment. Gawaine stopped at the door to the stables, holding his shoulders high. Sonic matched his stance with a grin. He wouldn't let the knight tell he was beat enough to drop to the floor. He stood tall, crossing his arms and grinning cheekily. Gawaine, not in the mood to challenge it, shook his head and spoke. "Right. You lot, dunnae fuhkin' perish, and I'll see ye tomorrow. After that, we're done, aye? You're Lancelot's lot, not mine."

"Very kind of you to look after my charges, Gawaine." Lancelot had appeared from nothing, leaning over Gawaine's shoulder. "Do me another favor and tell me where Percival is."


	10. The Way of the Sword

"Gah! Chaos above man, wear a fuhkin bell or somethin'!" Gawaine shouted, jumped out of his socks with fright. He whipped around and took a step back, gritting his teeth. Sonic saw tension bunch up in the man's shoulders, and watched his fists tighten into balls. From behind him, he heard Charlie and Tails both fall to the floor in shock from the hedgehog appearing out of seemingly nowhere. He gave a small wince in sympathy and turned to make sure they were all right, while Gawaine raged on ahead of him. He supposed the echidna warrior was pretty upset about being reminded of Percival's absence so quickly and in such a rude manner. _You brought this on yourself, buddy,_ he thought in Lancelot's direction as he checked the back of Charlie's head for a scrape.

Immune to such psychic intrusions, Lancelot stood stalwart in the face of Gawaine's raging. The red of the echidna's fur had now traveled to his cheeks with his bellowing. "You cannae just walk up and ask for her! She's bloody wandered off anyhow, so-!"

"How long."

"Ye what?!"

"How long has she been gone, Gawaine?" A peculiar note had entered Lancelot's voice. Upon further inspection, Sonic noticed a bandage across his cheek. Whatever wound was under it was swelling, and quite a lot at that. A large, dark bruise was creeping up onto the upper ranges of his cheek, disappearing into his black fur. It must hurt something awful. _How did I not see that when he first walked up?! Must have been the shock_ , he concluded with a frown. Sensing things were about to get ugly, Sonic made a quiet step towards the stable door. Gawaine seized upon the wound as well, putting away some of the anger in his tone.

"Chaos, man, what in blazes happened to you?"

A gloved hand came up reflexively to touch his cheek, as Lancelot paused. "A servant opened a door into my face. It is no true harm. Where is Percival?" He repeated. Something about the words made Sonic think twice about it. He had never seen Lancelot anything other than graceful, to be so off guard that a door could be opened into his head? Without him even trying to move away from it? Things were not adding up in this equation, but as he opened his mouth to press the issue, Gawaine cut him off.

"She's left! She's gonnae spend a month with Pellinore she said. Left a message with the Queen about it, since she didna wannae bother Arthur."

Lancelot's expression went from vapid concern to intense panic. The shift was sudden, and over in but a moment, but Sonic caught it. He was good at noticing details, and something about this situation had the hedgehog on guard. "King Arthur has _sent for her,_ Gawaine." The weight behind the words was not lost on Sonic. What it meant, he was unsure, but Gawaine did. He only grew more inflamed, stepping up to get chest to chest with Lancelot. The hedgehog did not stop him.

"I dunnae care! He can soak his head for all I care, she's gone off on a quest! Now take that back to 'im and spit it out!"

The ruby red eyes that met the echidna's purple ones held a heavy emotion. Sonic couldn't place it, but anxiety and fear gripped his own heart. The tension, the meaning, everything about this situation was... It wasn't right. Sonic eased the stable doors open, and groped around the inside of it. His hand closed around something long and sturdy. A broom handle, he suspected, and was proved right when he gently extracted it. Lancelot said nothing, looking around, and then raising his hand to his mouth. His fingers splayed across it, and after a brief silence, he spoke again. His words were soft, but they all fell like bricks. "I must go and visit the Queen, then."

Gawaine was far from done. In fact, he seemed to be getting started, and Lancelot had opened the gates to the Underworld. "Now I see yer bloody game!" The echidna roared, poking a finger into the fluff on Lancelot's chest. This was getting extremely out of hand, as Gawaine pressed his advantage on the rightfully stunned knight. "That's it! You were gonnae offer my girlfriend up to the king, weren't you? Yeh, just go and distract his royal tomfoolery so you could kip down the stairs and go and do the same to the Queen, ye hound!"

 _"You do not talk that way about Queen Guenever!"_ That sparked life and fire back into Lancelot. His hand flew down to the sword at his hip. It was not a small sword, steel and gold with a white handle. A red gem rested on the handguard. That threat did not seem to phase Gawaine a whit. In fact, it seemed to have a similar effect as waving a red flag at a bull.

No longer concerned with volume, Gawaine kept going, no matter how ill-advised it was. Sonic could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as Charlie and Tails shrunk even further back. Ears down, unable to look away from the cart-crash that was happening before them. "And what are ye gonnae do? Run back off to Elaine? I'm sure Galahad would be bloody thrilled to see his-"

Too far. Too far. Lancelot was no longer playing any kind of game. With a lash of his leg, he hooked it around Gawaine's own and gave it a tug. This alone was not enough to knock him down, merely unbalance him, but the shove on the chest Lancelot gave him afterward was. That shut Gawaine up, and in fact, gave him a look of remorse. Lancelot, not buying any apologies, advanced a step. The glint in his eye looked like he meant serious harm to the no-longer-enraged echidna, as he extended his arm and pointed his blade at his chest.

"That's _enough!"_ Sonic shouted. Finally, his legs unlocked, and he found himself moving again. Bounding forward, he planted a foot to the ground beside the prone Gawaine, and then dug it in to ground himself. _I've got one shot at this_ , he reminded himself using his back foot for support. _Do NOT mess this up!_ Using all the force he had, he swung the wooden end of the broom around, aiming for Lancelot's hand. Time seemed to slow for him. His fingers tightened, his wrists loosened a touch. He took a breath and followed through on his swing, as naturally as if he'd been made to do it.

A direct hit, and an unexpected one at that, making Lancelot yelp from surprise. Seeing red as he was, it was not hard to disarm him. One sharp smack to the tendon of his hand, and his arm and sword were both knocked aside. It certainly hurt, but it would do no lasting damage. Sonic was aiming to surprise him, not to really, truly cause him pain. He may have been a jerk, but he did deserve to keep his sword hand. Lancelot didn't drop the blade, but certainly came back to his senses, blinking once, and then shaking his head. His empty hand touched his cheek again, then brushed up through his quills. He looked up through his fingers at the blue hedgehog, who was still holding his broom, now across his chest. His eyes wandered to Gawaine, shell-shocked in his own right, and then to the frightened duo of Tails and Charlie.

At last, the Knight of the Lake sighed, and put his sword back at his side, dropping his other hand from his face. "I apologize for that, Gawaine." His voice had returned to a calm, even keel, and he leaned over to offer Gawaine his aid. Reluctantly, the red man took it.

"I went a bit too far there myself."

"That you did. I wish Percival well in her quest. She does deserve some time with her father. Carry on now, then," he stated, having pulled Gawaine to his feet. With a pat on his shoulder, Lancelot shoved him a step. The opposite direction, away from the stables. "Go have yourself a meal and a good sleep. You deserve it. We can go hawking tomorrow after we meet for the Table, if you'd like."

Gawaine, having yet to pull his thoughts together, merely nodded in a dazed sort of way. "Er. Aye. Hawkin'. Yeh. Never been one for falconry, but. Sure. Hawkin'," he mumbled, half to himself as he made his way off into the throng of the street. He turned a corner and vanished, and finally, Tails and Charlie began to breathe again. They let go of one another, as they had clung to each other in the fight. Sonic, still not trusting the other man, readied his broom again.

Lancelot fell back into his characteristic quiet. He stepped forward and walked a long, slow lap around the blue hedgehog. Sonic furrowed his brow and kept the broom up against his chest, easy for an attack. _If he hits me with that sword,_ Sonic noted, catching it gleam from the corner of his eye, _I'm done for. But I would have at least tried!_ That thought did not lift his spirits as Lancelot finally stopped in front of him again. A good distance away, but certainly close enough to let Sonic see the fire in his eyes. Fire, and... _Curiosity?_

"You stand like a swordsman."

"Sorry pal. Don't usually watch where I put my feet when I'm in action mode."

"Were you ever trained?"

 _"Dude,_ " Sonic said, partially out of exasperation. "You caught me shoveling horse crap out of a stall. Do I look like I've been trained to sword fight? I see bad guys doing bad things, I jump in to help. I'm nothing like you, and I'm glad not to be. I just didn't want to see Gawaine get hurt."

"Why?"

 _Chaos above, does he enjoy ruining my patience?!_ _I've given him every chance in the book!_ "Because he's just a guy! He's angry because his girlfriend left and he was mean to you, that doesn't mean you have to kill him!"

That seemed to be the answer Lancelot wanted. With a smug air, a gentle smile creased his lips. "I brought you here as a stableboy," he proclaimed, turning his back at last. "But I think you may have another use. Be up early tomorrow. I have plans." As he talked, he walked away, throwing his words over his shoulder as he went.

"You can't just say stuff like that and leave!" Sonic called after him, throwing the broom to the ground in a fit of temper. It bounced away on the cobbles as his adrenaline spike finally ran out, and now he was spent. He may have claimed Lancelot couldn't do that, may have demanded he come back.

But Lancelot could, and already had done it.


	11. Potential

After the dramatic show outside, the stablehands, frightened into disappearing, began to show their faces again. Coming out of the woodwork, they renewed Sonic and company's invitation for shelter and dinner, as long as they agreed to finish up the day's chores. Mucking out the final few stables and filling the last troughs with food and water, the argument and the words said hung over everyone's heads. The tension was like a wet blanket, and despite the weak sunshine filtering through the slats in the stables, the atmosphere refused to clear. The dust motes caught in the light were eventually chased out when the front door was propped open, but that failed to dispel the tension as well. Charlie had long since fallen asleep on a hay bale, and Tails had set to repairing some broken horse equipment, but despite his friends' relatively quiet air? Sonic couldn't stop thinking. He was tired to his bones, of course, and desperately wished to join Charlie. However, something about the words Gawaine and Lancelot traded struck him the wrong way. 

Thinking long enough to remember what he was doing was a chore. The last week had been grueling on him, he was saddle sore, his back and legs were cramped. Even dinner was a silent affair, quickly horked down the hatch by all parties involved. Sonic hardly tasted it, even as he mumbled his thanks and compliments to the chef. Nobody had the energy, presence of mind, or the will to discuss the fight that took place earlier that day. The amount of danger he was in, and that he had put his friends in, was beginning to set in upon him. He had to shake Charlie, gently, several times to get him to stay awake long enough to finish his food. Eventually, Sonic gave up, and put him to bed on the pallet that had been provided for him. As he did, his sleepy mind brought up all the hazards he had nearly avoided thus far. He had nearly drowned, could have been trampled by Pellinore's horse. Now, he had barely avoided getting caught in a brawl with Lancelot of all people. _Gotta be more careful,_ he thought to himself, collapsing onto his own straw bed. Using a rolled-up cloak as a pillow, and plenty warm enough from the other bodies around him, Sonic found no trouble resting. It was mere moments before he was dragged into dark, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Get up."

The voice, rough and demanding, spoke from across the room. A lantern cast light across the dusty floor, but Sonic wouldn't budge. He felt he had earned this rest, and with a grunt, he willed himself to go back to sleep. He shoved his head under his makeshift pillow, and willed Chaos to smite whoever was bugging him off the face of the earth.

No dice. "I mean you, fool. Get up. You have somewhere to be." The sound of heavy footfalls approached, and much as Sonic ignored the light and noise, he could not ignore the shoe being pressed into his ribs. It wasn't hard enough to amuse, but it did shake him enough to pull his foggy brain out of sleep. Unfortunately. Sonic, thoroughly awake and now fed up, gently lifted half the pillow off his head and cracked open an eye. _Oh, great. Who else?_

Lancelot had his number, it seemed. The knight had left the lantern by the door in order to avoid waking the other denizens of the single-roomed stablemen quarters. It was truly nothing spectacular, but everyone else, just as bushed, didn't notice. He was dressed casually, in a black woolen shirt, traveling pants, and his clockwork sabatons. Sonic groaned and let the pillow fall back over his eyes. "Says who?"

"Says I. Now get up. I have something to show you."

Much as Sonic yearned to protest, just to be annoying, he found his body moving. He sat up fully, yawned, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Stretching his back with a click, placing his hands in the small of it to bend further, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep more even if Lancelot left. "Fine. I'm coming." He cast his eyes to his friends, snoring beside him. Tails, sleeping closest to him gave a sleepy mutter, and then turned over. He didn't wake up, not even when Sonic rose from his bed and yawned. "This'd better be good. I feel like your horse trampled me."

* * *

Sonic had to admit, the fields outside of Camelot were gorgeous. This alone was worth waking up before the sky did. Outside of the hustle and bustle of the main city, which was only beginning to pick up when they left? The air became cool and quiet. Dawn was barely breaking, and the world above was still a muted grey. Stars were beginning to retreat, and eventually became blocked out by the canopy overhead, as Lancelot led him into a forest. The branches locked together high above, blotting out most of the early dawn light, giving the place an eerie feel. However, their path was not completely dark.

As they broached the thickest part of the forest, the trees began to part, making way for grass that touched the horse's knees on either side of the small path. Glowing mushrooms sprouted from hidden alcoves in tree roots, and lightning bugs rose from the ground. They filled the air with blinking illumination that made Sonic gasp in wonder, as they rose to dance. Crickets and frogs filled the air with their song, raising their voices from the trickling stream near the path. The birds were not yet awake in earnest, but Sonic could hear the slight titterings of the earliest of them. Warming up their own notes to join the quiet, early morning concerto. Nudging his horse to the edge of the path, Sonic leaned slightly to the side to run his fingers through the tufted grass. Seeds took to the air wherever he touched the feathery plants, making him grin.

"This is unlike everything I've ever seen!" He breathed, as seeds, borne on tiny fiber parasols, made their way into the world.

Lancelot gave a soft snort in reply. Though Sonic couldn't see his face, as he was too far ahead, he could hear the smile in his voice. "Hush. Don't disturb the peace."

Sonic was more than willing to shut his trap. As they continued to trot down the barely-there trail, the world woke up around them. As the trees grew farther between, Sonic took note of flora and fauna he had never seen before. Silver vines climbed the trunks of black trees, opening pale leaves to thirst for the sun. Large bushes, heavy with flowers, popped up now and then in a riot of color. Red, purple, gold and blue, they made a beautiful sight as the blooms began to gradually peek open in the dawn. The sun struggled to crest the horizon, casting long shadows across the carpet of white flowers under Sonic's feet. As the world finally burst into full light as the dawn finally broke, and the sun settled atop the earth to rest, Lancelot halted his horse. "Here."

He dismounted at the edge of what Sonic saw was a large clearing. The grass here was thick and springy, though short, and the trees overhead knit a small covering. Light hit the roughly circular area almost fully. It looked a lovely place to spread out a blanket and have lunch. "I realize," the knight began, as he rifled through his saddlebags, "I have neglected something."

"Oh, that's news to me!"

"Please cut the sass." The words were as dry as hardtack, and Sonic obliged as he jumped off his own mare. One ear tilted back to listen to what Lancelot had to say, as he tied his horse up so she could graze. "I realized that if I was going to have you take care of my horses-"

"Uh, yeah, you didn't even ask me about that," Sonic pointed out.

"As a soldier, you do what I say. Are you finished interrupting?"

With a huff and a tap of his foot, Sonic conceded. "I'll bite. Get to the point."

"Gladly. My point is," Lancelot concluded, drawing a large, wooden sword from his bags, "You need this."

A hush descended over them. Even the birds seemed to hold their breath. _Is he joking with me?_ Sonic wondered, quirking an eyebrow at Lancelot. The black hedgehog did not budge, face blank. "You're kidding. Right. Why would you give me personal sword lessons?"

Life returned to Lancelot, and he ventured to the center of the glen. "Because," he explained, beckoning Sonic to approach. "I want nothing but the best to protect my horses. I value them greatly. Every man should know how to use a sword regardless."

 _Well. This might as well happen._ With a shrug, Sonic followed Lancelot until he stood before him. Wordlessly, Lancelot offered him the training sword. He reached out to take it. "I can see that logic. Kinda, but wouldn't it be better if you- _**WAH!"**_

The sword was no ordinary wooden sword. As Lancelot placed the sword delicately in his hand, Sonic closed his hand around it. It dropped like a rock, and Sonic dropped with it, jarring his shoulder as it thunked into the ground. With an angry glare and snarl, he turned his fury onto Lancelot, who had taken a step back. "Wipe that smug grin off your face! What's the big idea?!"

"I do not have a smug grin," Lancelot lied. He feigned perfect innocence, hands held out to the blue hedgehog. "Didn't you know we trained with swords three times as heavy as normal? It's solid cherry wood with a lead core. That's normal."

"You're so full of crap I can smell it from here! I'm not taking part in this!" Sonic hissed and spat, dropping the sword to the floor. The knight opposite of him turned his grin into a smirk.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't know you were a quitter. We can turn around and go right back to Camelot right now, if you desire."

 _Son of a bitch is using my nature against me!_ The jab was not lost on Sonic. He knew he was being manipulated into working for this. _Fine. If he thinks I'm quitting, I'll be the best damn swordsman in Camelot. I'll show him!_ In an act of defiance, Sonic leaned down and snatched the sword back up. Upon second consideration, it was not so heavy. It was merely an unwieldy sword, but Sonic refused to admit defeat. He raised his arms until his elbows were held straight out, holding the sword with both hands. Curling his lips into a sneer, he stared Lancelot down.

The opposing knight merely nodded, then took the tip of the sword in two fingers. His grin was replaced by a look of fierce determination, a dedication so strong it shocked Sonic. "Good. But you have much to learn. Spread your feet, even out your weight! Come on, wider than that, I know you can do better. Now straighten your wrists, don't use your arms! Come on, don't act like that's too heavy, you'll have to hold it with one hand soon!"

Thus, training began.


	12. The Quest

Training with Lancelot lasted hours that day. Lancelot was taken hold of by some sort of spirit, and suddenly there was fire in his mind, a song in his bones. Often, Lancelot would juggle tasks, think about other things while he was actively using his body to do otherwise. Now, Sonic felt as if the world consisted of just himself, and this hyperactive bouncing hedgehog before him. Caught in a frenzy, Lancelot drilled him hard. He could hardly hold the sword for minutes at a time without his arms beginning to shake from the strain of putting all the force on his wrists. Several times, he begged to use a normal sword to train.

This did not bode well with Lancelot. "Absolutely not! This builds strength! It builds muscle and tone, you need to use this sword! When you get a sword of your own, it will feel like nothing! An extension of your arm! Now, quit thinking about how uncomfortable it is, and lunge! That's it!"

A more eccentric teacher, there never was. Harsh and cruel in his methods, Lancelot offered plenty of encouragement for Sonic to push himself. He was not a weakling, he had been breaking in horses all his life. This sort of exercise, however, was foreign to him, and his body rejected it. His wrists ached after mere minutes, his shoulders sore from the strain. Lancelot refused to relent, adjusting his stance a bit at a time with a stick, making him hold the sword straight up, then forcing him to turn it. Left and right, Sonic held the sword in whatever position the black knight demanded, and finally, when he thought his fingers would snap off, Lancelot told him to stop.

His breaks did not last long. Merely a few minutes at a time, he was offered a skin of water to replenish his strength from. After an hour or two, Lancelot even produced a small breakfast. In that moment, bread and cheese may as well have been ambrosia to the tired, hungry hog. He scarfed it down without complaint, and then, was immediately back to the grind. 

Holding the sword never got much easier, but he found he could hold out about the same amount of time each repeat of the exercise. After his wrists threatened to snap in half, Lancelot finally relented. It was now nearing noon, perhaps an hour out, and Sonic couldn't help but collapse into the grass. His filter had burned away with the morning cool, and he said what first came to mind.

"I don't like to 'hate' people, but man, do I _hate_ you."

The other knight gave no reply. Lancelot had sat down in the grass beside him, palming the cherry wood sword with a thoughtful look on his face. Knitting his brows together, he seemed to entirely ignore the venom directed his way. "I've realized something else, boy."

Sonic snapped his head to the side and put all the acid he could behind his glare. "I'm not doing any more of your bullshit training today. Get out of town."

"No, no, not that," Lancelot reassured him, waving his free hand at the hedgehog. Sonic longed to lunge up and bite him, but it would be an uncouth action, so he stuffed the urge down. "I just realized..." His ruby eyes met Sonic's own deep green ones. "What is your name?"

"Dude. You drag me across the country, force me into a job, make me hold that implement of torture, and now you want my _name?!"_

"If you please, yes. I would like to know it."

Usually, Sonic would have told Lancelot to go to hell. However, the request seemed so... Genuine. Mad as he was, he knew it was anger directed at himself, for not blowing Lancelot out of the water. He forced himself to sit up, and extended his hand for a shake. "You are one weird dude, y'know that? Well. It's Sonic. Sonic the Hedgehog. Great to meet you, finally."

The gesture took Lancelot by surprise. Blinking rapidly, his free hand gently touched his own bare chest, as he had abandoned his black shirt long before. After a second of consideration, Lancelot gently offered his hand to Sonic's own. His grip was strong, and his shake was gentle, to spare Sonic's sore wrists. "Sir Lancelot Dulac. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Letting go of Lancelot's hand, Sonic shook his head incredulously. Leaned halfway over his lap, he put his elbow in the crook of his knee and held his head in it. This gave him an odd vantage point to observe Lancelot, who had stretched his legs out across the grass. He was using one hand to rub his knee, which Sonic took note of. "What's up with you?" He asked pointedly. "Your face is pretty bruised, and now your legs are messed up too?"

Immediately, Lancelot removed his hand from his knee, folding them politely in his lap. One of them went up to touch the welt across his face. It had grown, and now it gave the white of his eye a rouge tone. "That was the door," he repeated from yesterday. "The knees are an ongoing problem. I've had them ever since I traveled with-"

All of a sudden, he cut off his words, raising his ears. He put his head on a swivel as Sonic slowly lifted his own. _What's he looking for? I don't see anything._ Squinting his eyes, Sonic looked to the trees, the grass, the sky, but could find nothing. Eventually, Lancelot heaved a sigh that carried the weight of things left unsaid.

"Merlina. I know you're there. Come out, there's no use in hiding from me."

Nothing moved. Nothing dared to breathe, for a long, quiet moment. Sonic thought Lancelot had gone mad, and was about to say so, when at last, something in the surrounding trees stirred. A girl appeared, as gentle as a doe, and stepped out into the clearing fully. A fox girl with fur the shade of cerise, with large blue eyes that were deep and nervous. A golden circlet encased her head, and her bare paws, and the end of her long purple dress, made no noise on the grass of the glade. Her paws held tightly to a large staff, a large crystal ball encased on the end of it. She ran her fingers over her braid, which was slung over her left shoulder and nearly went down to her thigh. "I am... Sorry to interrupt, Sir Lancelot." Her words floated in the air, nearly inaudible in the breeze. "But I have a message for you."

 _What is it with this guy and weird magical girls taking his letters?_ Sonic thought bitterly. Merlina's eyes locked onto him, and his face heated. He was sure he hadn't said that out loud! Undeterred by Sonic's apparent telepathy, Lancelot rose to his feet, grimacing as he did.

"I am busy, Merlina."

The girl's hand continued to stroke her braid, playing with the end of it between her fingers. She looked positively frightened out of her mind, a deer about to sprint. "Oh, sir, I know sir. Merlin sent me. He said you wouldn't listen to him."

"He's right on that one." Lancelot's words were hot, carrying a degree of emotion in them that Sonic couldn't quite understand. He supposed there was more behind this 'Merlyn' fellow than magic tricks. "What do you want?"

"The Queen needs to speak with you. Urgently."

All he needed to hear, Lancelot straightened up at once and made for his horse. Nothing further needed to be said for him to kick into action, as he put one foot in the stirrup and swung himself over, onto the back of his steed. "The lesson is over for today, Sonic," he declared. "Mount your horse. We're headed back to Camelot, quick as we can. Don't lose me."

Pulling his head out of the clouds, Sonic averted his gaze from Merlina, and finally stood. He sped to his horse and put his foot in the stirrup, but remembered Merlina. He turned his head to thank her, but when he opened his mouth?

There was nothing there but an empty clearing, grass swaying in the wind. As Lancelot kicked his horse down the way they had come, Sonic couldn't put the fox girl out of his mind. _This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder._

* * *

Abandoning Sonic at the side gates of Camelot, Lancelot pushed his horse as fast as he reasonably could, without running down any peasants. Naturally, a man on a great black palfrey got the right of way in most any situation, but many a time he was forced to wait for a cart to pass, or for a particularly slow throng of people to step aside. To send Merlina after him must have meant that sending a runner would have taken too much time, and that Guenever could not wait for him to finish up. Training Sonic had taken nearly all morning, and his woolen shirt was soaked through with sweat from the exertion and the relative heat of the sun by the time he finally pulled his horse to a stop at the castle gates. He abandoned his horse and was allowed into the castle at large without a moment's hesitation.

The halls were warm and well-lit, but Lancelot took no notice of most everything around him. Visiting his King now tended to give him pangs of fear that twisted up his heart, but to visit Lady Guenever was always a treat. He felt worry in his soul, of course, this was unlike her in the extreme. He continued to wrestle with his growing sense of dread and jubilation as he climbed staircase after staircase, wandered down a carpeted hall after hall, until he finally came to Guenever's door. Unlike Arthur's bedroom door, this one was merely polished wood, with a regular knocker. He felt no surge of anxiety as he reached for it, but the door opened on it's own. A soft hand reached out through the crack of light, took hold of his shirt, and drew him inside.

Guenever's room was warm, inviting. Torches lined the walls, candles sat on surfaces, and the curtains on the window were tied open. It was the opposite of Arthur's dark, enclosed bedroom. It radiated positivity from the potted plant that spilled over the edge of her writing desk, vines coated in small daisies, to the lacy canopy hanging over her four postered bed. Lancelot felt the tension ease from his shoulders but maintained a stately, professional air about him as Guenever released his shirt. Ten years ago, the chipmunk Queen had been slim and somewhat timid, a caged animal in an unfamiliar world. Now, with a daughter under her belt and experience being a Queen, she had found her spine and put it to use. There were some minor lines around her eyes, as she was older than Lancelot, but she was no less beautiful when she offered him a subdued smile. Her hands closed around one of his, as he kneeled before her. The carpet was thick under his knee, and despite her exercise earlier in the day, it didn't hurt him at all to do so.

"My lady. You called for me?"

"Must you always be so professional?" Her voice teased, high and clear as a bell. It made Lancelot smile reflexively, especially as she tugged his hand. "Up with you, now. None of that kneeling business, Lance."

 _Lance._ "Anything for you, my Queen."

"None of that either!" Barely restraining her giggle, she tugged him up to his feet. Lancelot didn't fight it, suppressing a chuckle of his own and standing tall. He had a good few inches on her, and when he raised himself up on his toes and held his chin high, the difference was staggering. Guenever, tired of his nonsense, finally laughed and swatted his hand.

"You seem in a bright mood, Sir Dulac. Anything I should know about?"

"No," Lancelot said with a smile. "Just some training."

Finally taking him in for real, Guenever's smile faltered as she beheld the dark mark across his cheek. Raising her free hand to ghost her fingers down it, Lancelot winced, but allowed her to do so. Sadness began to fill her eyes. "Was this from 'training', Lance?"

"It is nothing to worry about," came the reassuring lie. It sounded untrue even to his own ears, and he could tell Guenever wasn't buying it. She was remarkably quick-witted when she had to be, and he knew she had her theories on where the wound was from. Unwilling to let her ask, Lancelot pressed ahead. "What is it that you needed, Guenever?"

Leaving her primary concern with a sigh, Guenever dropped her hand from Lancelot's face to find his own. He let her take it without complaint, ears perked and listening in. "I need you to leave Camelot."

A ton of bricks would have hit Lancelot softer than that statement. His heart dropped into his stomach, taking the rest of his organs, and his thoughts, with it. Seeing the look on his face, Guenever was quick to squeeze his hands soothingly. "Oh, no no no! Not like that, Lancelot. I don't want you to leave."

 _That's a relief._ "Then what do you want? Why? Is Arthur-"

 _Ah, I'm onto it._ Guenever bit her lip and looked away, lowering her voice. It forced Lancelot to lean in closer to hear her words. "Merlyn informed me that something bad is going to happen, very soon. He didn't say what it was, but Merlina saw something and needs you to go."

"Merlina told me to come here!"

"Yes. She knew if she told you to leave, you would fight with Merlyn, and get caught up in something undesirable. She asked me to tell you to go."

That, at least, made sense. Unwilling to dwell on his problems with that little cretin, the hedgehog swallowed his hatred. He didn't want to feel anything negative while he was here, he'd rather not taint this place. "I cannot just leave Camelot without due cause. The Table would kill me. You'll have to give me a quest, Lady Guenever."

The levity he forced into his tone seemed to work. Guenever offered him a slight curl of her lip, eyes softening. Her expression brightened at once. "I shall give you a quest, then. Go north, and hunt me one of those fanged deer. I would like very much to have it's skin."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he scoffed. "Hunt a deer? My lady, I would have that done in a day."

"Yes, you would, Sir Lancelot. Therefore you must go very far north, where the fur grows thicker. And perhaps it takes you a long time to find one that's perfect enough, and perhaps some other trouble befalls you, and it takes you a few weeks to return home. Does that sound like a possibility?"

Does it? Turning inward, Lancelot gave it some thought. He could easily lie about spraining his ankle, breaking his bow, and only finding old, grizzled deer. He was a very good hunter, but to hunt for a queen? It had to be a perfect specimen. He could not return with something other than the best. "I could do anything for you, my lady." Doubt began to set in as he dwelled on her words. Something bad will happen to me? Is Arthur going to do something? "Harm will befall me if I stay? But what of you? I cannot protect you, if I am-"

Guenever's hands left his own. She traced her fingers up his arms, and Lancelot grew very still. Her paws, soft and warm, finally settled on his cheeks again. Her lips turned into a pout, curly red hair framing her face. She was stunning. "Lance, you do worry so."

Without much resistance, the queen pulled Lancelot's face down to her own, and he worried no more.


	13. Sorceress' Rat

A particular trait of Lancelot's that Sonic was beginning to notice was his habit to disappear, all at once, with no explanation. As Gawaine kept to his word and showed up again at the stables in mid-afternoon, he explained that this was not anything new. All he claimed to know what that Lancelot had met with the assembled knights in the room of the Table, been briefed on their activities, and then put Gawaine in charge when he left. What he was off to do, Lancelot refused to specify, but indicated it was an important quest and he did not desire company for it. Since the Round Table at large was, as Gawaine put it, "used to his bonnie load of bullshite," they let Lancelot leave without complaint. It would not take him long to pack for whatever adventure he was about to embark on, and by the time evening fell, Lancelot was gone.

What this meant for his training was unclear for Sonic. Was Lancelot going to come back in a day or two and pick up the sword again? A week? Was he expected to continue training on his own, with no gear to show for it? Or was Lancelot merely playing games with him, like a toy? He'd heard about how uppity and haughty the knights could be. How some of the 'agents of Right' would saunter around, noses in the air, armor polished and flashy. Lancelot, while he was the best without question, did not strike Sonic as such a knight. He hadn't bragged as much as Sonic would expect a man of his caliber to brag, and in fact, seemed a touch fed up with the affair. Time to dwell on such things was not readily available to him. Lancelot had dragged him from his bed before the sun was up, leaving him with far fewer hours to really get done with his day's work. Caring for horses was second nature for him, but it was still time-consuming work.

His newest problem was Lancelot's charger. Now fully rested from the hard ride it had undertaken the day prior, it was showing it's spirit. Lancelot's palfreys were placid, somewhat stupid things that knew one thing : ride smoothly, and for a long time. This charger was not such an animal. While it was not a horse to be used in war (that would be Lancelot's prized destrier), it was still ill-tempered. It did not like Sonic. It did not recognize Sonic. From the moment his eyes met the dark wells of the horse's own, Sonic could feel a deep-seated resentment for him. "You're gonna make this pretty tough, aren'tcha buddy?"

'Buddy' as this horse would come to be known, would do just that. Biting at any opportunity, stamping it's hooves, and outright threatening to kick now and then, getting any chores done with him was an uphill battle. It took Sonic several hours to do the work he knew could be done in two, and he was all the sorer for the experience. Sonic did not believe in 'hating' an animal, as it acted only out of it's own logic and emotions, and could not be blamed. However, this was the closest he had ever gotten to 'hate' for a creature. He knew that Buddy felt the same way about him.

* * *

Lancelot did not return in a day. Lancelot did not return in a week. In fact, a week and a half had gone by, and there wasn't a spot of Lancelot to be seen in Camelot. Sonic found himself somewhat preoccupied with thoughts of the ill-tempered knight, not out of worry. Merely out of confusion, and slight annoyance, that his 'training' was dropped so suddenly. As much as he had complained about being forced out of bed so early to swing a sword around? He did love to exercise, and the sword fighting, while brief, did put an ache in his muscles that was different from the norm. Jogging was his favorite activity, though the speed of his 'jog' could outpace everyone else in his village, so the upper body strain was pleasantly new. Without Lancelot's training sword, and with no clear instructions on where to get one, Sonic was stuck.

His friends did not have to deal with a demonic horse, and were doing quite well for themselves. Charlie, while still nervous and shifty, had found quite the boon of luck in his path. Lancelot had pulled strings in the back, and his position as 'pageboy' in the castle was upgraded beyond imagination. While unable to make his way fully up to the top brass of pages, he was put in Guenever's outer circle of servants. To be a servant wasn't what Sonic would consider a 'good' job for Charlie, but the boy seemed happy, and more importantly: a smidge cleaner. His white fur made him a magnet for dirt, and though Tails was constantly brushing debris out of his own white-tipped tails, Charlie seemed to defy the laws of probability. If there was a puddle of mud, a pile of sand or a dust bunny to be found, he would find it.

This was why, on Tails' break from working, the trio convened outside of the blacksmith, and did not let Charlie near the door. He would turn into a grey rabbit in no time, and it would never come out of his fluff for all the scrubbing in the world. Tails' skill in smithing from his upbringing also let him catapult himself up the ranks, from a helper to a young man allowed to do as much smithing as he liked. Of course, he had a master, the man who owned the smith. The man, however, was older, and Tails ended up doing a much as he was capable of doing. He had found his niche, so to speak, and seemed thrilled to be there. The grin on his face hadn't left all week, as he proved his skills handily, and was taught as many smithing secrets as he desired to know.

"You're lucky that guy is so trusting, Miles." Leaning against the wall of the forge, Sonic tried to prevent his eyes from wandering to the castle gates. Lancelot would come home when he could. There was no use in biting his nails in anticipation, not when his friends needed him. It wouldn't be fair to bring down their accomplishments with his own struggle, not yet anyway. Give it another month and he'd start complaining. "But that's probably just because you're so talented!"

The hand that reached out to ruffle Tails' head was quickly batted away with a soft gekker from the fox. "Hey, knock it off! You're gonna get that in my eyes," he giggled, ducking out of the way from a surprise paw from Charlie. "It's just what I've always been doing, it's not too hard here!" Safely having fended off the intruding headpats, he adjusted the leather apron around his waist. It was a touch too big for him, but tied tightly enough it was staying on for now. His boots were new, though with the nature of his work, they already didn't appear to be. His normal blue forge glove had been replaced with his typical white one. His goggles, perched high on his head, were stained with soot. Sonic had the creeping feeling it would, somehow, end up on Charlie by the end of the day.

The dirt magnet in question bounced on his toes. Far from the small, somewhat withdrawn kid he was before, Charlie was thriving every day. His grin was now near-permanent. "It's skill, I promise you! I couldn't ever do forge work!"

"Well," said Tails, in the tone that promised a lengthy lesson, "You see, it's-"

_"Stop that rat!"_

"Huh?!" Went the boys. All three heads swiveled toward the origin of the cry, down the alleyway. Thinking it must have meant him, Sonic was quick to coil up his legs to spring, but his assumptions were mistaken. A moment later, a small shape came rocketing around the corner. A rat, about the size of a small loaf of bread, skittered across the road as fast as it's legs could carry it's little body. After it came a figure in a black cloak, hood pulled up over their head. Their shoes, slippers a shade of purple so dark it was nearly black, were not meant for this terrain, and they crashed into the wall shoulder-first. Seeming to shake off any apparent injury, they sprinted after the rat, who had long since passed the dumb-founded friends and hurtled toward the end of the street. It drifted around another corner, and disappeared.

The figure stopped before them, and as Sonic looked closer, he could make out a face. A white snout, deep blue eyes, a golden circlet on her head- "Merlina?!"

Puffing, hands on her knees, Merlina raised her eyebrows. "Oh, it is you!" Relief flooded into her face, as she raised an arm to point down the road. "I beseech of you, catch that rat! It is vital it does not escape! Merlyn will be very cross with me if it does!"

Chase? Oh, this was his lucky day! With a cocky smirk, Sonic gave a salute. "Sit back and relax, Merlina! I'm on the case!" Running in place for a moment to build up speed, Sonic was off like a shot.

Running in Camelot was not as easy as he would have liked, especially when chasing an animal smaller than the horses he was accustomed to running down. The rat, made to escape from predators faster than itself, had squeezed it's fat little body through a stack of crates by the time Sonic rounded the forge. Leaping into the air, Sonic slammed his palm down on top of it and vaulted his way over them, landing on the ground with a roll and springing back to his feet. This was what he was made for, straight, open sections of road, nothing in his way, nowhere for his prey to run but-

 _Into the main road! No!_ The black and white splotched rat had burst onto the busiest section of Camelot in the middle of the day. Carts were everywhere, horses were more common than foot traffic, and the rat was sure to be trampled, or lost in the shuffle. _I've gotta switch gears, or Merlina's going to be crushed! I can't let that rat die!_

Sonic eased off on his speed and dug his feet into the ground, letting himself coast out onto the main road. He looked up and down the road, without a wiggly little body in sight. Finally, his eyes honed in on his little escapee, sprinting among the throne of people stood outside a bakery, awaiting lunch. Just as Sonic was about to open the throttle again, a horse-drawn cart passed, blocking his line of sight and his straight-shot to the quarry. _I've gotta get a better view! What hunts rats in the wild?!_

Spotting a halted wagon nearby, Sonic had an idea. Revving up his legs again, he sprinted for it, and then leaped into the air. Both of his feet hit the cart, and in a smooth motion, he crouched and leaped a second time, catching the very edge of a roof. He hauled himself up, made sure the building would hold his weight, and then jumped to the next roof. Now he had the advantage of height. Springing across the rooves of homes, business, and more, he could easily keep pace with the rat. The wind in his quills was exhilarating, the rush of his blood was a welcome change from his stagnant days. "I should tell Merlina to lose animals more often, this is great!" He cackled, never losing sight of his target. The people below stopped, stared and pointed, but he paid them no mind. This was the most fun he'd had in weeks!

The rat, now having lost sight of it's newer, bluer pursuer, had begun to slow down. Sonic did so as well, and then, finally, catapulted himself off the roof and onto the rat. Closing his hands around the runaway rodent, he tumbled across the street, and finally, when he came to a stop, uncurled. The rat was wiggling and squealing in his hands, but the buck-toothed creature was going nowhere fast. "Caught ya, ya little stinkpot! Now where are you going, eh?" He asked it, raising it up to meet his eyes. The rat, unable to speak English, hissed and struggled to bite him. Sonic gave it a bored frown. "You aren't too talkative, are you?"

"Sonic!" Merlina called, sprinting up to him with Charlie and Tails loping behind, close at her heels. "Have you got him?!"

Presenting the rat with a smile, Sonic nodded. "Yeah, I caught him! He's a wily thing, you know, you'd think he wanted to get squished underfoot!"

Charlie's amber eyes were full of stars as he skidded to a halt and beamed. "That was amazing, Sonic! How'd you learn how to do that!"

"Eheh, well," Sonic replied, handing the rat off to Merlina. Putting a hand to his hip and grinning, rubbing his nose with a finger, he couldn't help but toot his own horn a little. "Just in my blood, you know? I've always been fast, I- Hey no no _no **no** what are you doing?!"_

Bragginghad turned to extreme worry, as all three boys shouted at the witch. She had taken the rat behind the head, put one hand on it's back half, and pulled. Rather than scream, the rat simply came apart in two. After she did so, the skin and fur gradually turned into cloth from a sack, and white sand began to spill out onto the floor. Three mouths hung open as Merlina looked up, stuffing the halves of what was once a rat into a small pouch at her side. "What?" She asked, looking between all three of the heartbroken, confused faces. "Why are you staring like that?"

"What the hell was that?!" Sonic demanded, looking at the pile of sand at his feet. "That wasn't a rat at all!"

"No, it wasn't," Merlina confirmed. She pulled the drawstring on her pouch closed, and tied a knot in it. "That was... Well, it doesn't matter what it was. All that matters is that I have it back!"

Tails, unconvinced, shut Charlie's open mouth with a hand. "Then why was it so important we get it back for you if it was just sand? I thought you said it was Merlyn's!"

Eyes widening, Merlina nodded quickly. "Oh, this is Merlyn's! I was playing with some of his things, and... Got a bit carried away, eheheh." Looking suitably abashed, she offered an embarrassed grin, twisting the tip of her foot into the ground as her hands clasped behind her back. "I can make a new one. Just. Don't tell Merlyn I took his things, will you?"

All three boys shared a look. A look that spoke volumes of how often they had all been in trouble before, and how many things they had gotten away with because a witness said nothing. Simultaneously, they nodded their assent. Merlina clapped her hands together and clasped them. "Oh, good! I knew I could count on you three! You, there... Sonic, was it? You are exceptionally brave."

Startled to be recognized, Sonic nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. He could brag all he liked, but when it came to true praise? He could be somewhat shy. "Well. Can't let a pretty lady in distress go by, can I? Not gentlemanly!"

"It isn't _knightly,_ " Merlina asserted. She looked as if she wanted to say more, but her ears pricked, and her head whipped toward the castle. "Oh! Oh no! I have to go, I am terribly sorry! Yes, terribly so! Thank you so much for your help!" With a quick curtsey to all assembled members of the squad, she turned and fled.

"Well," Charlie piped up, as they watched her run away. "That was weird. Hey Tails, didn't you have something in the forge?"

"Oh, no! My lunch!"


	14. Homecoming

Knights were typically expected to be out questing several months of the year. Camelot was the home base of the Round Table, that was true, but many knights only returned to roost once or twice a year. Other knights, like Sir Kay and Sir Bedevere, were more of the homebody sort. Lancelot as well had been undertaking fewer quests than he once did, staying home more often, and never ranging very far when he did leave. This was a far cry from his old self, when he had once stayed out a-questing for a year and a half before he was ordered to return home by the next knight who saw him, at Arthur's command. Some said Lancelot was losing his edge, that his health was beginning to fail. Lancelot knew the truth behind his somewhat stationary nature, and it was not a secret he was willing to share just yet. Even with his limited questing experience as of late, a knight like himself knew how to survive in the wild. 

Having packed enough food for the trip, to eat hard tac and dried beef for weeks was not his game plan. He would do it if he had to, but truly, he preferred to have something other than bricks to chew on while he, quite literally, waited out the storm at Camelot. Popping a hawthorn berry into his mouth from the bunch he had picked earlier, he offered a second one to the inquisitive horse nose nuzzling over his shoulder. The velvety lips took it from his fingers and retreated, the food tax having been paid. Lancelot looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sumpter, whom he had taken as if it was a true quest. These berries would have been among the last of the season, as winter was coming swiftly in the air. Tart and tangy, with the occasionally overtly sweet one mixed in, this would be the last bit of 'fresh' fruit he assumed he'd be getting until late spring. Thus, he was enjoying the treat as much as he could. Sharing the boon this with this horse may have been a rather selfless thing to do, but he supposed it was an apology, of sorts.

He had no reason to bring this horse along, to hunt a vampire deer would take him mere days, and the meat and pelt would not be very heavy. To bring the packhorse just put on the appearance he would be undertaking a long, arduous quest. He just didn't want to overload his palfrey, and force it to carry his bags on this false quest. The rest of the time he was supposed to be looking for the easy-to-find creature, he was simply... Stuck. Awaiting the time when he felt it would be safe to return home. These horses were a lovely source of company, even if they were after his food. They were a touch spoiled, and would not eat grass, especially the though, tasteless late-autumn grass, if they thought they could bum a treat from their master.

His fingers closed protectively around the remaining berries as the inquisitive, hungry nose returned. Lancelot's free hand rose to push the nose backward. "No, sorry. You'll have to graze for yourself now, friend. Go on, shove off," he encouraged the now irritated creature. It plodded off, and he found himself in relative peace and quiet. With a deeply satisfied sigh, he stretched his limbs out, legs in front of him, arms up and over his head. His nose took in a deep breath of cold, crisp air. Autumn was swiftly coming to an end, he assumed, though it would be a while before the first snow yet. It was rare to have any of the stuff this early.

As the thought danced across his mind, and another few berries entered his mouth, he watched a flake of white dance across his vision, and settle onto a leaf at his feet. It melted immediately, but Lancelot glanced up at the now-overcast sky. "Ah," he said, no nobody in particular, as his horses could not speak. "This will reach Camelot within the week. It's about time I went about hunting, isn't it, friend?" Lancelot cast a look over his shoulder and found his sumpter helping itself to his baggage. His palfrey looked on, apathetic, and complicit in the crime.

"... Well then. Now I have to go hunting."

* * *

Another half a week passed Sonic by, with no sight or sound of Lancelot. To be worried about him, Sonic knew, was folly. He was a capable knight and had proved himself several times over, in tournaments, in war, and in quests. He was an accomplished jouster, a renowned swordsman, and above all, he was strong. Despite all these things, Sonic found himself a touch antsy. He knew he should not be, and yet, he found himself looking to Camelot's west gate, where Lancelot had left, again and again as the days dragged on and wore at his patience. Lancelot had left with two horses, provisions, and his sacred sword. Any task that befell him, he could accomplish in short order and to perfection. With something of a dry frown, one day, Sonic realized that he cared for Lancelot. He held little love for the man, that was true. Lancelot could be cold, secretive, and at times somewhat harsh, but Sonic felt he had a good heart. Somewhere down inside that black and red hedgehog, past all the humility, Lancelot could be kind and soft. He had secured the boys jobs at no immediate benefit to himself, had taken Tails in at the slight behest of his mother. Despite having dragged Sonic from his home, and then to Camelot, he was not a cruel man.

Home was never far from Sonic's mind either. He was a family-oriented type of guy, unlike most others his age. He held no desire to find a wife and marry, move out of his family's home and village to start his own horse farm somewhere else. He was quite happy to remain, single and content, in the home he was born and reared in. His parents were getting older too, he was still young and spry. To take on the tasks they were beginning to find hard was of no trouble to himself, and he quite enjoyed the work, if he was honest with himself. _I wonder if I can go visit when winter is over,_ he pondered, dumping water into Buddy's trough. The stallion looked on unyieldingly. I'm sure that I can-

A sudden commotion from outside broke his train of thought and startled him enough to drop the bucket. Buddy was displeased with this, and made that known by trying to bite Sonic's ear, but he paid the ornery horse no mind. Righting the bucket on the floor of the dusty stable, Sonic poked his head out of the front door to see what all the noise and fuss was about. Wagon crashes, arguments, even fights, those were not uncommon on the back streets of Camelot, like the one that connected the stables to the outside world. However, this seemed to be a much larger anomaly, and after ensuring it was not Lancelot returning from the west, Sonic slipped outside to discover what could be causing such a disruption.

The street was cold and dark, due to the time of day. Sunlight tended to slant into this alley by midday and then the afternoon, in the mid-morning hours like this, shadows still ruled this land. It was an ever-changing landscape of garbage, crates of supplies, and other refuse. Stepping over the loose cobble that had claimed the lives of many an unsuspecting victim, Sonic rushed into the sunlight of the main street, turning his head to glance down the main throughfare. From here, he could see almost the entirety of the main street, the shops, the storage buildings, even some of the fancier homes and taverns. The opposite way, not that far of a walk, were the castle gates. Large and imposing black doors set inside a stone wall, not unlike the large wall around Camelot as a whole, were shut tight. Sonic wasn't sure they ever opened, even Lancelot took back passages to get into the castle at large.

The front gates of the castle, thrown wide, with the drawbridge down, had admitted something Sonic was almost as excited to see as Lancelot himself. "Percival!"

It was indeed. King Pellinore and Sir Percival, practically prancing down the road on their horses, had finally returned to Camelot. The host they had escorted was no worse for wear, if somewhat diminished in size. Pellinore and Percival headed up two lines of other knights, whom Sonic did not know fully, but had sighted in passing and learned their names prior, though in his excitement he cared little for them. Sunlight shone off of the polished armor of the pair of Pellinores, and the grateful, relieved faces of the peasants matched Sonic's own. Dusty and dirty, the vagrants shuffled off, likely to secure themselves lodging, or company. Camelot was home to many, many inns, and they were about to all have new residents for the foreseeable future. Sonic contained his excitement, hanging out of the alleyway by gripping onto the wall and swinging outward. He didn't want to impose on the Pellinores, nor did he want to get trampled to death by their overexcited horses!

Waiting was not in the cards for him, for as the knights escorted the groups of civilians to their winter lodgings before the war picked back up again at Arthur's discretion, the Pellinores broke off from the host. Heading for places unknown, Percival's dancing golden gaze met his own, and he could feel the strength of her sunny smile that she aimed at him. She tugged her reins over to meet him, and Pellinore, now catching sight of the blue hedgehog himself, followed suit. Stepping smoothly out of the alleyway, Sonic rolled his wrist in a dramatic fashion and bowed to them, as deeply as he could. "His Majesty the King and Sir Percival! How's it hangin'?"

The cocky tone and the blend of formal and informal speech had the desired effect on his marks, and both King and Princess burst into laughter. They laughed in the same way, clutching their stomachs and wiping a tear from the corner of their eye, though the King's visor fell upon his hand. It did not seem to burst his bubble, but the reaction was out of the ordinary. _I'm not that funny... Am I?_ Choosing to chalk it up to stress, Sonic ventured on with his greetings. "You guys look good! How was the trip?"

Finally calming herself enough to answer, Percival's smile was slight and friendly. The lines and bags underneath her eyes indicated how tired this trip truly made her, but she had more than enough energy to smile. "It went quite well, thank you. We took some detours to drop off some of our footmen in other villages to overwinter, so we would not overrun Camelot. I am sorry to have returned so late after we assured you we would be here on your heels!"

"Oh, I'm certain half of the force we left behind are going to run off," the king tacked on, taking off his glasses and looking for a clean place to rub them. Sonic plucked them from his hand while Pellinore went on. "But, that is the way of conscripts in war, what, yes? Oh, thank you good sir, I've been unable to see for weeks! So very hard to keep clean on the march!"

Passing the glasses back off with all the care he would give to passing a ring to a lady of standing, he turned his attentions back to Sir Percival. "Speaking of march, you two seen Lancelot? I know it's a long shot, but he's been gone a couple weeks. Hasn't come back yet."

The Pellinores shared a look, then an identical shake of their heads. They looked very similar, with white muzzles, the same golden eyes, and small black noses that twitched this way and that. Sonic could see the family resemblance in the cats, but could see no direct link to Percival's 'brother' Lamorak. That was another mystery. "No, unfortunately not, good fellow. Not since we left him weeks back. I am sorry we could not be of more use to you."

His heart deflated, just a touch, but he rebounded immediately. Nothing could keep him down for long, and he was with company! Why Percival had taken such a shine to him, he wasn't certain, but he was glad for it. "Hey, it was a slim shot anyway! Now you guys are back in Camelot so we can hang out!"

A slight twitch began in Percival's eye, though she quickly raised a hand to rub it away. "Oh, no, I am quite sorry," she said, tone full of genuine regret. "But we cannot stay. We must be after the Questing Beast, immediately!" Percival dropped her hands to crack her knuckles, wringing them and shifting in her saddle. 

_She's gotta be saddle sore by now, she needs a break._ "Oh! Well, gimmie your horses and I'll-"

"No no, no no," Percival insisted, waving her hand frantically to hush him. "We must be away now. You see she's quite fast, that Beast, and we cannot lose her!"

Something about this did not sit right with Sonic. Studying Percival's face closer, he noticed that those lines were not those of fatigue. They were stress, and worry, and her vision kept darting from his face to the castle, traveling up the stone walls. Pellinore seemed right pleased to be with his daughter, but Percival... She clearly did not want to be here. Her impatience shown in the tapping of her horse's hooves on the cobble. Casting a quick peek over his shoulder, Sonic leaned in. "Uh... Percie, you, um. Are you okay?"

"Never better!" Percival's tone was injected with false levity that struck him across the face like a brick. He was not astute when it came to lying, but this was outright bold. Her hand traveling to her hair, combing through it with her fingers as she took hold of her reins again. "But we truly must be away! No time for supplies, no time to rest! The Beast, she calls for us!"

"Yes yes," Pellinore interjected, sitting straight in his saddle. His whiskers quivered in excitement. "We must be away! We've caught sight of her again, I will not fail in this hunt!"

 _What the hell is her game?!_ "But, wait, Gawaine will want to see you, won't he? And your brother?"

Golden eyes filled, for a moment, with fear and sadness, darting around the street. Whatever she saw reassured her enough to lean down, lowering her voice. "Tell Gawaine I will be back in time for the holidays. I just fear the Beast, that's all." Immediately picking herself back up and sitting straight, her smile was plastered back on. It screamed of falsehoods, but Pellinore, through his glasses, visor, and air of pure happiness, did not see a thing wrong.

"Away we must go, Percival! With two Pellinores this hunt could be nothing but a success, yes, what? Off we go, tcha! To find the Beast is the Pellinore quest, now we have the Pellinore's best!"

With an exuberant rhyme and a spring in his horse's step, King Pellinore turned away and kicked his horse into a trot. Percival, hesitating for only a moment, eyes locked to Sonic's, soon turned to follow after her father. Sonic was too dumbstruck by the absurdity of the interaction to chase after them, and when the thought occurred? They had already disappeared into the throng of people crowding the street. In that moment, Sonic felt out of his depth entirely and found his thoughts circling as he plodded back to the stables. _What in the world has Percival so spooked about that castle that she won't even see her brother and her boyfriend?_


	15. End of an Era

Another week slowly dragged itself by Sonic, and the monotony of his tasks was beginning to get to him. Taking care of horses was what he was good at, the skill that would have made him a living in a normal situation. Had Lancelot never shown up, he would have likely lived his entire life in his family home, had children, and passed on his skills. Now he had been taken into a world of knights, castles, kings and wizards, and what was he doing? Still tending horses. These were Lancelot's horses, yes, but it still struck him as mundane. Sort of boring, if he was honest with himself. He enjoyed it, yes, but Lancelot had given him a taste of a skill he thought he would never reach in his lifetime. Common peasants could not afford swords, common peasants would never be knights. It was only lordlings that ever achieved such status. To being given the briefest taste of a sword lesson had him chomping at the bit for more, just to break this constant feeling of doing the same thing, in a different place. The snow outside, which had begun to fall the day prior, had by now covered Camelot in a thick, suffocating blanket of white. That was why he felt this way, surely? The snow was simply affecting his mood, accelerating cabin fever.

This was not a feeling he was alone in either, he suspected. Waiting around for Lancelot was his own, personal struggle, but his friends had to be bored... Right?

* * *

"Bored?"

The word floated to Sonic over the din of Tails, hard at work. He held a rough shape of a scythe blade in his paws, and was working it over the grinding wheel to turn the chunk of metal into something that resembled a tool. Paying some modicum of attention to Sonic as the grinding wheel rotated, he gently skirted the edge of the surface over the stone wheel again. "No, I'm not bored. I love doing this! I've got far more work now than I ever did at home! It's great!"

Charlie, seated on a rough wooden bench to the side, kicked his feet in and out and generally fidgeted in place. "I like my job," he chimed in. "I get to run around all day, and I'm good at that! And the queen is very nice to me, and I get to stay inside, and go outside, and-"

"But that's not... Monotonous, to either of you?"

"No." Came twin declarations of abject excitement. 

Sonic, posted up with his back against the far wall, crossed his arms and grumbled. "Well, sorry to interrupt," he grunted, flattening his ears and sinking down. This greatly amused Charlie, who gave a snicker and tapped his paws against the ground.

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss! I've been relieved for the day. Maybe we could go have a walk around outside the castle walls? Oooh, ooh! Maybe we could go sledding! There's hills just outside the walls!" This idea greatly excited the rabbit, who still had a vestige of childhood around him. His eyes widened and sparkled, and he looked to Sonic for direction.

 _Now how can I crush his dreams?_ With a shrug, he assented. "Beats sitting around in here. Tails, you in for an adventure?"

The todd in question sucked on his teeth, eyeing the blade he was sharpening. Picking it up and glancing down the length of it, then running a careful finger down the broad side of the metal, he hemmed and hawed about his answer. "Ooh, I don't know. I'm not quite happy with this blade yet. I don't understand, that last little bit should have been perfect! Maybe I need to take a whetstone to it and do that by hand, instead of just-"

The blue hedgehog gave a fake, exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms to the sky. "Tails, buddy! You spend your life on a scythe blade and you'll miss the snow! Come on, that's enough of that!" With two long, purposeful strides, Sonic vaulted himself up and over the counter that split the blacksmith shop in half. Reaching out, he grabbed Tails by the shoulder, plucked the blade from his hand, and set it down. "Promise ya, that'll still be there when we get done havin' fun!"

* * *

A plan was concocted, quickly and quietly, in the relative warmth of midday. With a quick borrowing of a length of rope and a thin piece of wood from the back of Tails' blacksmith job, a rudimentary sled was constructed. It was poorly made, nothing like the sleds of the future, but for three common boys with little time to be boys? It was enough to make even the reluctant Tails skip on the way out of Camelot. Leaving from the western gate, Sonic led them to the hills, remembering them from when Lancelot took him to train. They weren't steep hills, but they were large ones, in the way that the slope was gentle, but the slight valley that formed between this hill and the next would provide a long ride. Sonic pulled the sled behind him, as it bumped over hidden rocks in the snow and glided smoothly over his footfalls. The snow was still coming down, light and powdery, and Sonic shivered a little through his wool shirt and cloak. 

The exercise, trudging through the slightly piled up drifts and over the uneven terrain, did keep him warm though. As well as the excitement of his friends, Charlie leaping along beside him and chattering to Tails about the best way to sled. Sonic couldn't help but smile, despite the chill starting to seep into his fur. To see his friends jubilant, especially a somewhat sad sort like Charlie, warmed his heart. He did like to make his friends happy after all, and if Charlie wanted to sled? He would drag a thousand wooden palettes over a thousand steep hills to make that happen. That was just in his nature.

The trio stopped on top of a crest of a mound, and Tails squinted down at it, tongue blepped out of his mouth just a touch from focus. "This should be a safe hill, it isn't too steep, and there's deep drifts at the very bottom, so even if we do crash, we-"

He was not allowed to finish his statement. Charlie gently pilfered the sled from his hand and set it on the snow, bouncing in place. "Yeah yeah yeah, safe is we crash, c'mon c'mon let's go!" Snatching Tails' paw, he yanked the todd to the sled with him, sitting down heavily and forcing Tails down behind him. "I haven't gotten to sled in forever, this'll be worth it even if you're wrong and we crash!"

"We will not _crash-"_ Tails began, but once again, Charlie's impatience for fun could not be sated. Digging his thumpers into the ground, he pulled himself and a very unamused Miles forward. He gripped tightly onto the rope as Sonic walked alongside them, putting his foot on the back to stop them from going down just yet. He waggled his finger and tutted as Charlie looked back at him with betrayal in his eyes.

"You think I'm gonna let you go without a running start?" Tails' face dropped as Charlie's lightened with joy, willingly handing the rope over to Sonic's awaiting grasp. The hedgehog pulled the sled around to the top of the hill, then took off with a few running steps before thrusting the sled down the hill. He could stand on top and wait for them, wait for his own turn, but he had a better idea. Curling up into a ball, he pushed himself forward and rolled down with them.

The snow splashed up around his face as he hit the hill, catching in his quills and melting, making him shiver. He didn't much care, the wind whistled past his ears, and he could see the world rolling around him as he tumbled down and down. The cold air burned his lungs, and flurries made it to his face. He licked a snowflake off his tongue, giggling at the action. He hadn't rolled down a hill since he was a kid!

Sonic hit a lump and bounced once, feeling his stomach leaving his body as he caught airtime. He hit the ground and bounced again, with a smaller arc this time, as the snow built up around his body from the rolling. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, I'm turning into a snowball!_ The depictions of objects dropped down a snowy hill and turning into lumps of snow had left his mind, and as he picked up speed, he wondered if he would roll across the country entirely. Breaking his feet free of the clump of packed-in water that had formed around them, he dug them into the earth to stop himself as the world flattened out.

Too late. He crashed, head over quills, into a large snowbank. Several inches deep, he opened his eyes to a wall of white. _At least that broke my fall._ Pushing his cramping legs out again, he rolled backward, flopped into the snow when he saw sunlight, and uncurled. Tails and Charlie stood over him, one with an expression of concern, and one with childlike awe. "Do that again!" Charlie demanded. "You almost went over the bank!"

* * *

How could Sonic deny such a request for the show to go on? With an adjustment to his starting position, Sonic found that rolling down the hill in ball-form was a lot of fun! He didn't even need the sled, though he did take a few turns on it himself while Charlie 'helped' Tails to build a snow-cat. Helped being the operative word, as he was a little more of a hindrance to the entire project. It had been a very, very long time since Sonic had finished his work and opted to play in the snow instead, not since he was a small child with his parents. It felt... Good. To play like this, to know he could still play even though by now, most people his age would have been married with a kid or two. He was no longer with his family, he reflected as he went down the hill again, but Tails and Charlie? They were family enough for him. He slid to a stop at the snowbank and sighed, shaking flurries from his blue quills and smiling fondly at his memories. Sonic cast his eyes up to his new 'brothers', and spotted the missing member of his crew.

Lancelot had returned, wool cloak pulled up around his head, black deer pelt strewn across his packhorse's back. He had paused to talk to Tails, jumping off his horse and stretching what must have been cold, sore muscles. He knew the perfect way to warm him up. Sonic felt his mouth split into a wide grin, and picked the sled up by the rope, a mischievous plan forming in his mind. "Hey, Lance! You allergic to fun?"


	16. Holi-Daisy Chain

Sword training was Sonic's number one priority, now that Lancelot had returned home. However, training was not what was presented to him. Instead? The holiday season smacked Sonic over the head like a ton of bricks, all at once, with a crushing weight of purpose. Yule had snuck up on him as he spent his days watching for Lancelot, and now? There was very little time to prepare for it. His training was mutually agreed to be halted until after the season was over, for the purposes of preparation and general merriment. Work for everyone else halted as well, save for the servants and forgemasters, as well as stableboys. Which meant, he and his friends were working all through the rest of the month, as their tasks never truly ended. 

Outside, Sonic could hear the other citizens hard at work with their new jobs: Setting up for Yule. Getting out their stores of food to prepare a meal for Yule, laughing, playing in the streets. Camelot was a crowded, noisy, bustling place, but now? It was tenfold what it usually was, and with soldiers quartering here for the winter, it was up to individuals to put food on their own platters. With livestock having been already taken care of and made into meat, that was not hard. Stuck inside the stables for most of his days, when not out to pasture, Sonic did delight in the smells of food coming through the open windows of his place of work. Lancelot did pay him good coin to do this, likely because of Buddy's attitude. Thoughts of buying himself a nice meal on Yule kept him going through work he was beginning to find even more tedious. Adventure was within his grasp, Lancelot was here. Yet the timing of his return made any further, meaningful progress remain out of his reach. It was absolutely maddening.

Thankfully, these weeks seemed to pass faster with his added workload. Pitching in with Tails' work when he could so the todd could come and hang out more, beyond the time they spent working together, did keep him busy enough to ignore his boredom. For the most part. His arms ached to hold a sword again, and he found himself liking the physical labor working a forge demanded. When he was given that training sword again, he'd be strong enough to swing it. The forgemaster, Ferrus, has no qualm with this. An odd Mobian beyond most description, with a somewhat dog-like muzzle, a long tail with a puff at the end, and short fur, the old man didn't seem to care that Sonic was helping. Sonic demanded no pay, and was willing to haul things around that most people who cherished the integrity of their back wouldn't dream of touching. 

Tails was the one Sonic usually pitched a hand to, but on the day of Yule, he was met with another task.

* * *

"Sonic!"

The shout of Charlie's little voice made Sonic whip his head around from where he was crouched at the far end of the stables, investigating a mouse hole. Mice were pests, of course, but keeping a cat here wasn't wise. Blocking the holes was only a temporary solution, but it was the one they had. Sliding a wooden bucket in front of the entrance, Sonic stood up straight as Charlie skidded to a halt beside him. Despite the chill in the air, the small rabbit boy was panting, a parcel in one hand, paper in the other. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sonic set a hand on his shoulder. "Woah, woah, calm it down there buddy! What's the rush, huh?"

Taking his advice to heart, Charlie produced the slip of parchment and passed it off. It wasn't the rough parchment he was used to, but something a touch more refined. An elegant scrawl paced across it, an indicator of higher learning. Whoever wrote this note must be important. As Sonic stared at it, eyebrow arched and awaiting an explanation, Charlie swallowed and discovered his voice. "It's from Lancelot. He wants you to come up to the castle. Important, he says."

 _Lancelot?_ Sonic unfolded the note, carefully, scanning the words. He did know how to read, which was a skill not everyone was blessed with in this world.

**_Sonic,_ **

**_Come up to the castle. You've been invited as a 'plus-one' for dinner. Percival insisted upon it._ **

**_Lancelot_ **

_Direct as ever, I see._ With a shrug, Sonic folded the note back over his finger and tucked it into his quills. As he did so, his other hand reached for the parcel Charlie carried. He snatched it back with all the urgency of a pickpocket. 

Sensing the unintended slight of the action, Charlie had the grace to look apologetic. "No, no. That's for, uh. Merlyn. Come on up to the castle, I'll go deliver this and then I'll take you to go and find Lancelot, yeah? Come on, we can't be late."

Feeling like he hadn't a moment to even consider his course of action, Sonic gave Charlie a reassuring smile. "Sure thing, buddy! Lets go crash that royal hooplah, huh? Bet it'll be fun!"

* * *

"So, this is Camelot Castle, huh? Kinda ritzy."

Walking into Camelot Castle, for Lancelot, was second nature. He blocked out everything that was not his immedite task at hand. Sonic, however, could not do that, and took everything in with awe. The greens of the castle stretched out wide on both sides, places he had never gotten the chance to wander in. Gardens peeked out above tall hedges beside the cobblestone road that lead up to the front door, the gates thrown open wide to vent the place that the king and queen lived in. Lights and laughter poured out and onto the slight covering of pure white snow on the ground, as servants scurried out now and then to sweep it off the path. Party guests mingled outdoors despite the chill, ladies of standing hiding behind fans and under colorful coaks, men-at-arms having a drink away from the main hustle and bustle. The evening was dark, but the light of the moon and the stars, as well as lanterns placed around, gave the area a warmth he never would have imagined could exist in a place as foreboding as this. Candles stood in nearly every window of the main building, stretching into the sky until they became stars themselves. Knights Sonic didn't know called out in greeting to him, likely having heard through Percival and Lancelot who he was. Sonic replied with a bow, as he followed Charlie's hurrying form past the open doors.

Heat, tantalizing smells of meat and sour beer hit his nose the moment he stepped past the threshold. A large carpet had been laid out, a new one by the looks of the vibrant colors and the way his feet sank into it, now covered with mud. _It's nearly ruined now,_ Sonic thought bitterly. _All that work, wasted._ Other partygoers, not bothered by the plights of the carpet weavers, were happy to dance up and down the hallways that split to the left and right. A second set of doors was also open, though the walls were thick, and inside there lied the main party.

Knights, serfs, and other assorted men and women crowded the several long tables that made up the banquet hall. Tableclothes had been stained and shredded tonight in the volley of hungry attendees that flowed in and out of the hall like a raging, ravenous tide of bodies against the helpless sands of the servants and their plates. It smelled even more strongly of ale in here, especially when Charlie motioned for him to stick to the outside wall. He stepped over broken plates and abandoned ale mugs, some half-full, some kicked over, all with a potent odor, as he moved towards the servant's door. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, remarkably unbroken and glittering with candles, likely to keep them out of reach of the raucous crowd. Braziers still burned brightly, making the room flicker in light and shadow every time a cold gust of wind came fluttering in the front door. No snow could reach the tables, and especially not the raised dais where three thrones sat. A large one, a medium one, and a teensy one in the middle. 

The smallest of the thrones was occupied, and Sonic craned his neck to see by whom. A small girl, in a little blue dress, with guards at her side. She had no plate, nor a mug, and Sonic felt bad for her. Her face still had a touch of youthful pudge around her cheeks, and her pale blue eyes were framed by blood-red curls. A small tiara was nestled in her hair, and though a smile was applied, he knew she had to be bored. Charlie grabbed him by the hand and yanked him into the hall, and he saw no more of the tiny princess. 

The servant's hall was cramped, damp, and poorly lit, with room for two to just barely pass abreast. The smell of food was stronger here, and as Charlie pressed himself against the wall, he saw fit to explain. "We can't normally use the main halls. These are here so the guests don't have to see us." The words, while indicative of a large gap in social standing, were flippant, and Sonic didn't have time to argue. Cold water dripped onto his head and down his back, and other servants nearly trampled him on their way back to the party. Towards the end of the hall one way, he could hear the shouts and orders of a kitchen working overtime. This was not the way they went, as Charlie took a sharp turn to the right. Sonic followed. Charlie muscled his way up a set of stairs and opened a door to an opulent hallway, closing it quickly behind him and taking a deep sigh of relief.

The torches here burned a lovely shade of pink, which gave Sonic a start, squinting at them to inspect them. "Pay them no mind," said the bunny boy, loping down the hall. The hallway was brightly lit, and very warm, despite the frigid temperatures outdoors. Every door was equipped with a knocked of some kind, and he very nearly ran into the rabbit when he halted at a door in the corner. Looking down the way they had just come, and down the hallway to the right, he turned and whispered to Sonic. "You stay here. You can't go up to see Merlyn, okay? I'll be right back down the stairs and I'll go find Lancelot for you, okay?"

Sensing the need for urgency, Sonic gave Charlie a thumbs up, then went down the other hall a few steps. As Charlie closed the door behind him, Sonic leaned against the wall, staring out the window opposite him. Snow continued to fall, though it condensed into water on the windows, painting the outside in a blurry picture of paradise. What he wouldn't give to be out there, racing across the snow, kicking it up in white puffs under his feet.

 _This world,_ Sonic reflected, _is not for me. I don't belong here. I'm not like them. I'm no knight, and I'm not a noble. What does Lancelot want with me anyway?_ The thought had plagued his inner mind for a long time now. It tumbled across the landscape of his thoughts in nearly all his tasks. What was Lancelot's goal, with him? To make him his squire? A fellow knight? A friend? The aims of the black hedgehog were always as mysterious as his origins. The Ill-Made Knight, as that was his own preferred nickname, was a mystery to Sonic, despite all the time they had spent together. He was no closer to 'knowing' Lancelot DuLac now than he was all those weeks ago when Lancelot pulled him out of his own home. This may have been Lancelot's preferred way of life, royal parties, intrigue, politics and bad-tempered kings, but this was not how Sonic wanted to live. He yearned for freedom, he realized, as his eyes traced a drop of water on the window. He didn't want to join this crowd. He wanted to leave, as soon as he was able, to go home and... _Do what? Tend horses the rest of my life? Is that what I'd do with freedom? Is that what I would want to do, if I had the choice of doing anything I wanted?_

"What are you pondering there, friend?"

"Thinking about life, is all-" Sonic began to say, but the words died on his throat when he glanced to the side and saw who was speaking.

A tall echidna stood beside him, the same color as the midday son. Bands of deep gold circled the two quills that were lazily drooped over his shoulders, contrasting against the creamy white color of his muzzle. A swish of the same color went up between his periwinkle colored eyes. A deep black ribbon tied up the rest of his quills, and a red cape was fastened over his shoulders. His tunic was half-open, revealing a white marking across his chest. It was too indistinct for Sonic to make out, covered as it was by cape and shirt, but he knew who this was. He didn't even have to note the lopsided crown that sat on his head.

"Oh shit-! I mean, uh, greetings, your highness?"

Sonic tried to drop into a bow, but King Arthur seemed to find something about that to be utterly hilarious. His voice boomed out in a heartfelt laugh, and he waved a hand to stop him. "Oh, you're too much! I'm tired of all the formalities. A simple 'hello' will suffice from now on, yes? What are you here for?"

This was beyond bizzare. This king did not match up to the stories Sonic had heard, and his swallow caught in his throat and he raised a shaking hand to point at Merlyn's closed door. "I'm, uh. Waiting for my escort. I mean, not escort, I-!"

Arthur laughed again, clutching his stomach and wiping a tear from his eye. "Say no more, old friend! I am sorry to have bothered you. Carry on waiting, good chap. I have a party to attend, ugh." With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, and a good-natured pat on Sonic's shoulder, Arthur left Sonic, dumbfounded, to stand alone in the hall. Arthur's fine leather boots tapped across the floor, and Sonic couldn't help but stare after him as Charlie finally emerged from the door. The little rabbit pulled his arm and tugged him in the opposite direction that Arthur went, even as Sonic snapped to reality and began to protest.

"Charlie, I just saw-"

"We have to go, Sonic, right now! You're going to be late to the party, Merlyn said that's where he is!"

"He wasn't there bef- Hey since when are you talking to Merlyn?!"

Charlie, refusing to answer this question, threw him through the servant's door. The slab of wood banged shut behind them as Charlie shoved him along, but Sonic still vainly stretched his neck to try and catch a glimpse, a whisper, of Arthur's presence.

* * *

It took longer to get back to the dining hall than it had taken to get here. Somebody had dropped a platter of something in the midst of the hall, and a cleaning crew was there to pick up the mess. Replacement dishes were flying out of the kitchen past the door of the stairwell, and after a few moment of waiting, Charlie rolled his eyes and huffed. Some spirit of courage had come into the rabbit boy, as he shoved his way through the throng of bodies and down a second, even dingier hall. Leading Sonic around twists and turns that he swore took them in the wrong direction, Charlie had managed to lead them around the mess. These halls were even less used than the normal ones, and spiders had built webs worth of rivaling the castle they lived in. Avoiding a particularly nasty one, Sonic leaned his head to the side. Charlie halted at last in front of a door that was identical to all the ones they had passed and gone through prior, and just as Sonic was about to make a snarky comment, the boy nodded. "This one leads to the dining room too. It's not as busy cause it's such a far haul from the kitchen, it's mostly for garbage. This should be where Lance-"

Tired of being given the runaround, and somewhat put-off by his meeting with Arthur, Sonic muscled past and opened the door. Fresh air hit his nose, along with the noise of the party, but so did something else.

The little princess had disappeared, and someone else had taken her place. Arthur had arrived long before they had, standing on his dais with a grin the size of Camelot itself. His cheeks were rosy, likely due to the mug he had raised into the air with a hand. The other was slung tightly across someone's shoulders, though his chest blocked the view. As Sonic leaned forward and squinted, he saw who it was. None other than Lancelot himself, grinning just as wide. He looked just a touch nervous, by the slant of his eyes, but hopeful beyond hope too. What Arthur was saying was a moot point, as it was drawing too much of a reaction from the crowd. Mugs were being banged onto tables, knights were shouting, it was a din even Sonic couldn't tune out entirely. Lancelot was wrapped up in court life once again, and more importantly : wrapped up in his king. This was not who he had been led to believe Arthur was, nor Lancelot, and the fun of the court, the sneaking around, the meeting in the hall, had all drained from Sonic.

Lancelot cast a glance in his direction, but looked back to the king. He waved his hand in a quick, flicking gesture, to dismiss the blue hedgehog, and Sonic was... Surprised by how much the motion stung. Cuddled up in Arthur's grasp, he looked as happy as he had ever been, and woe onto Sonic to attempt to disturb it. Turning around, Sonic took a deep breath and closed to door. Leave Lance to his party, I guess. He looks pretty pleased to be there. Forcing himself to be upbeat, he grinned at Charlie. "Hey, bud. Let's go and bug Miles, huh? This kinda place isn't my style."


	17. Regrets

"Hey."

A voice came swimming to Sonic through the murky, comforting blackness of extremely deep sleep. Snuggled down into his bedding, warm, cozy, and uninclined to move, he dismissed the voice as a dream. His body was achy, and his eyelids were heavy, results of partying too hard and for too long overnight. Memories crowded in, fuzzy around the edges as they tended to be when one tried to think on events while half-asleep. Images of Tails and Charlie bled together, hanging around in Tails' forge around his fire. Roasting chestnuts, cracking jokes, generally having a good time long into the night, as snow fell. There had been no drinking, the boys weren't exactly able to get anything to drink and Charlie was still too young, but Sonic still had a headache. Perhaps he was up too late, perhaps the pain in his heart moved to his head. As his memories began to spiral into more and more outlandish fantasies, Sonic felt himself slipping into slumber again.

"Hey, you. Are you gonna get up or not?"

A lantern was swung over his sleeping form, and Sonic cracked open an eye, knowing full well who was trying to rouse him. The mechanical sabatons by his head only confirmed his suspicions. "I thought you were with your boytoy," Sonic slurred, speech still not fully functional yet.

"What was that?"

"I said," repeated the hedgehog, slowly beginning to raise himself out of bed on his arms, "I thought you weren't buoyant yet. You know, up?"

The lie, arbitrary and unbelievable as it was, did not seem to raise Lancelot's alarm. The knight moved back a step as Sonic shook himself into the waking world, sitting upright and blinking blearily. "No. I am awake, and I have been for a while. Get up. It is time to get back to training."

Letting things go was usually Sonic's specialty. To forgive, to forget, to move on with his life. This was not a bone, however, he was willing to release. Not quite yet. "Finally remembered you promised to train me, huh?" He rolled to his feet and stood up straight, stretching skyward. His knees and back gave out a series of clicks, as did his arms when he began to move them back and forth as he headed for the door. 

"I never forgot. Nor did I promise you."

"I think you did."

"Quiet." Sonic needed no more instruction, as the sunlight hit his eyes full-force, making him squint. He stepped over dust piles and went to saddle his mare, thankfully easy-tempered enough to not protest this early rising. She was a good horse, willing to sit still and patient as he took her saddle from the wall and put it on her, tying off the straps securely and fitting her bridle. Lancelot was much like his own horse, pacing back and forth and awaiting him to finish. To spite him, Sonic took his time in triple-checking all his equipment, before he led out his mare and mounted her. Lancelot was a step ahead, already on his horse's back and heading down the road to the castle gate.

_This'll be a fun day, if that's his mood._

* * *

The sarcastic comment proved true. Lancelot's moods typically swung with the progression of the sun across the sky, but today was an extreme example. Brash and surly in the morning when he was nudging Sonic awake with the tip of his shoe, his mind seemed to be elsewhere during training proper. The wooden training sword felt rough and unfamiliar in Sonic's hands, the wood worn and ragged even through his tough training gloves. The heavy horse-work he had been doing when Lancelot was gone, preparing for winter by stocking up on haybales, fighting with Buddy, and a higher workload than ever had given him strength in his arms. He could now lift and hold the sword without tremoring for a longer period, a solid few minutes rather than the barely scraped minute mark before. His wrists were still weak, but the muscle in his arms had become hard. He did not expect praise for this advancement in achievement, but he expected...

Something. Anything. A mote of acknowledgment. However, although his eyes were on the hedgehog and his stance, legs somewhat spread and sword held out in front of him in both hands, Lancelot was not giving quality feedback. Like a bored professor a semester away from retirement, he merely offered 'good, good', and, on occasion, 'straighten up.' His body was present, but his mind absent, and the quality of it tickled at Sonic's temper. He was not an angry hedgehog, and preferred to solve conflict with words, and humor, rather than a brawl. This was simply baiting him, agreeing to train him, and being off in his own world, rubbing his neck and walking circles and circles without saying anything. Any direction was better than none at all, but this degree of absent-mindedness was almost worse than nothing.

"Look, if you're not into it, I get it. We can try tomorrow." Thinking it best to try a suitably friendly tack first, Sonic lowered his sword and stood upright again, facing Lancelot as he spoke. 

Seeming to notice Sonic for the first time in a solid chunk of the morning, Lancelot blinked. "Oh. No. Do continue, you're doing fine."

"What can I do better?"

 _Aha, that has him on the backfoot._ Struggling to appear that he was paying attention, Lancelot straightened and cleared his throat, where he was previously bent over while he walked. "Oh. Er, your form. You keep turning your foot."

"You said earlier my form was perfect and not to move."

With an exhausted, irritated sigh, Lancelot dragged a hand down his face and flung his free one out, elbow at his hip. "What do you want from me, Sonic, truly?"

The tender threads of Sonic's restrained anger were fraying, but holding strong in his heart. Blowing up at the only man to teach him swordplay would be a disastrous idea. "I don't know, some effort! How long were you even at that party?!"

"What I was doing at the party is none of your concern!"

"I think it is my concern, if you're going to train me, I want the best! You are the best knight in Camelot, right?" The hold on his temper broke entirely, and his next words were filled with venom, and something like... Betrayal. "Or did you just ask Arthur to give you that title since you're such good buddies with that asshole?"

"Do _not_ talk about Arthur that way!" Fists clenched and teeth bared, this was shaping into an actual fight. Sonic had hit some sort of nerve, and knew it, but he was too incensed to do anything but continue to press.

Stepping up to Lancelot, noting the height difference between them and discarding it, Sonic continued to press buttons. "Why? You think I haven't noticed what's going on? I'm not some kind of-"

Taking a swing at someone was a common occurrence, in taverns, beside roads, almost everywhere really. The instinct to fight, to brawl, was never far from the surface of someone's mind, hard-wired into their instincts. It was a way of life, to settle disagreements with a few solid hits, and then to move on with life. As such, Sonic noted the tensing in Lancelot's arm and abandoned his words to jump backward, out of range of the infuriated right hook. _I didn't want it to come to this,_ came his last coherent thought before he threw off his shackles of civility and devoted himself to this brawl, throwing that training sword to the ground.

He was no stranger to a fight, he had been in many, as a boy, over toys, or girls, or anything else a bunch of young teenaged boys could see to fight about. To fight as an adult, with a famed knight no less, was, well. He was out of practice, rusty, but so was Lancelot. So used to he was the song of swords that he forgot the ancient one that sang in his very blood, the movement of a fistfight, nature's first and last form of combat. Unarmed, fueled by rage, he clung so hard to his high life of horses and steel that he lacked the basic knowledge of how to fight without them. Sonic had more experience and was going to use it.

Lancelot was clumsy, his clockwork sabatons useless in such close range. His punches were telegraphed, heavy, and would certainly hurt if they landed, but Sonic was faster. Rocking up on the balls of his feet, he could outlast Lancelot before his temper fizzled out, and that was his plan. Sidestepping left and right as Lancelot rained blows on the hedgehog's afterimage, he let his body flow. His reflexes were fast, and though a true fight tired him out extremely quickly, he knew every rock in this training ground. Lancelot's fists whistled past his head as he ducked and weaved, letting Lancelot chase him as expend his anger. What he did not know in this arena, were the trees.

His back hit heavy, grizzled bark with a thud that took the air from his lungs. Ducking out of the way was impossible, lest he end up trapped in a thorn bush and at Lancelot's mercy, as his quick glances left and right met him with twisted, painful-looking brambles. His anger not yet spent, Lancelot closed in to get at least one good, solid hit on him. Desperate for an escape, Sonic stood and looked, let his eyes dart to take in details.

There! Lancelot's steps, though he had never taken much notice before, were awkward. Too distracted and infuriated to use his shoes, his steps were somewhat heavy, his knees buckle a touch too much for normalcy. Hedging his beautiful face on his bet, Sonic waiting for Lancelot to close, pressed his eyes shut, and lashed out with his foot to hit Lancelot squarely in the kneecap.

The loud cursing and thud of the knight to the ground heralded his victory. With the jubilation of winning a fight against Lancelot, of all people, came guilt, as his eyes cracked open. His anger leeched out through his shoes and into the ground, forgotten and abandoned in the face of the more pressing concern. The knight before him, having clattered to the ground, seemed to be in true pain, holding his leg out straight before him, both hands clasped over his kneecap. Bent over the injury, he ignored Sonic as he gradually sidled to the side of the tree, around Lancelot, before leaning over him a safe distance away. On his bad side, of course, no need to invite a kick. "Oh, yeesh, Lance. I'm really sorry, I didn't know that would..."

"It's fine," came the gruff, closed-off response. Gritting his teeth and sucking in a breath, he let it go, voice wavering just a touch. "It is an old war injury, and I was acting out of line. You were right to be angry with me, I was being foolish."

"Is that an apology? Out of you?"

"Do not push it."

"Noted." Taking a step, Sonic very cautiously offered Lancelot his hand to help him up. "If it's that bad, we should, uh. Probably get you back to Camelot. Think you can sit a horse?"

Pained ruby eyes snapped up to meet his own, but, gradually, Lancelot looked to his own knee, and nodded in a tired fashion. "Yes, I should. Go and rest it. I can ride if I take it slowly." In a moment of weakness, or perhaps, without thinking, Lancelot accepted the hand. Sonic didn't question it, and merely tucked his shoulder up and under Lancelot's own to set the black, quarrelsome hedgehog upright. 

"Yeah, slow, gingerly walk back to Camelot. Can do. You wanna take my mare? She's pretty gentle."

"I. Thank you, Sonic. You'll find no trouble with my palfrey, I assure you. She isn't like... What did you call him?"

"Buddy?"

"Yes. Buddy." Neglecting to mention the fight, or what caused it, Sonic took a step towards the horses, and Lancelot followed suit.


	18. At Some Point

Now that Lancelot was firmly stuck at home, thanks to the rapid accumulation of snow around the castle's walls, training was forced to move inside the city for the winter, as the horses did not need to undergo the strain of such cold temperatures if they did not need to. Sonic would have liked to petition that he, too, would have liked to be inside the stables under a blanket, but the urge to learn the way of the sword, and the gruff 'encouragement' from his surly mentor, spurred him out of his hibernation. While Miles forged away all winter long under the watchful eye of the blacksmith, and Charlie spent his time running the halls of the great castle? Sonic was finally introduced to the training yard, where knights overwintered while awaiting the springtime, and the quests that came with it. Gawaine, of course, was here, attached at the hip to Percival. There were other knights milling about who Sonic could not name, an armadillo with punches that could rival the swipes of his sword, a large, boastful lion that strut around with his chest out, mane flowing freely, a yellow flying squirrel, who Sonic eventually came to know as a 'Sir Lionel'. He was given many funny looks, as he stood in the training yard, a peasant being trained by a knight. However, none dared to challenge the Head of the Round Table, and winter passed for Sonic with the hefting of a training sword and the sound of wood thudding into a straw-filled dummy. Now and again, that was joined by brief affirmations of praise by Sir Lancelot.

The fight between the two men had broken something within Lancelot. Sonic did not want to jump to any conclusions, but his mentor seemed much warmer. Much more friendly, even patient to a degree, and while his smiles were still few and far between, his tone was softer, his advice more heartfelt and kindly delivered. Sonic never shunned the gentle touches from the knights adjusting his stance, the way he gripped his sword, all in the pursuit of better skills, but the intentions behind the actions no longer seemed like they were for Lancelot's benefit alone. Instead of trying to keep an eye on Sonic, now Lancelot seemed to truly care about Sonic's progression. Their time together was, of course, limited, as Lancelot had many duties to attend to outside of training himself a knight, but respect was now offered to Sonic, and the blue hedgehog responded in kind.

With Lancelot's slowly thawing heart, came the eventual snowmelt of the kingdom of Camelot. The snow piled up on the roads turned to darkened slush, sloughing off the high walls of Camelot and onto the poor, unsuspecting guards below. Life began to stir once more, taverns disgorging their drunks onto their front steps more and more often, kids gathering up what was left of the white powder to throw at one another with gusto. The silence that Sonic had never noticed before was now breaking, as the muffling effects of the drifts began to fade, as main street turned into a river during the afternoon day after day. Birds returned to the rooftops, weeds began to spring up around the roads. Sonic could even forgo the jacket and thick pants he had taken to wearing for his more preferred attire, a spice colored pair of trousers and a light blue jacket. Spring brought with it warmer temperatures, but running about bare-chested was still ill-advised.

Lancelot was more respectful of Sonic's space, instead appointing a time for them to train rather than simply appearing in his bedroom. However, his presence could not be escaped, and as Sonic threw open the door one morning for a deep breath of fresh air, Lancelot was stood by the door. Waiting.

Taking it in stride, with pep in his step and lightness in his voice, Sonic shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. "Man, I thought we were over this! What's up, Lance? Here to pull me outta bed again?"

With something that could be within a stone's throw of a smile on his face, Lancelot replied in kind, leaned against the wall of the stable with his sword sheathed at his side. "In a way, Sonic. Spring has, as they say, sprung. I figured it would be a wise endeavor to take the horses out and return to training in our grotto, away from prying eyes."

The blue hog's heart did a jig in his chest, and Sonic couldn't suppress the grin that overtook his features. "Really? That sounds great, I think your friends kinda don't like me."

"A keen observation," came the cheeky reply, as Lancelot invited himself into the stables to find his own horse. "To bring a peasant into the training yard, practically unheard of."

"Inspiring you to be a rulebreaker, huh? Ooohh, I'm worse than I thought!" This had become something like the norm, the playful back and forth between them. When it had evolved, Sonic was uncertain, but he was thankful for it. Lancelot no longer seemed invincible. Instead, he was something approaching... A friend. His good mood rubbed off on his mare, who, despite being accustomed to her lack of use from winter, stood placidly as he saddled her up.

Across the aisle, Lancelot was attending his own spotted palfrey, and though Sonic couldn't see his face, he imagined a slight smile on the black hedgehog's lips. "Yes, you are a criminal. I should take you to the dungeons right this minute."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Comedy hour continued as the pair equipped their horses and dragged them, quite literally, out of the stables. The horses were out of shape and wanted to be back inside the warm and cozy air of their habitat, but the jovial attitude of the pair gave them no quarter to be fussy. They settled down on the trip to Lancelot's hidden grotto, plodding their hooves into the icy slurry on the deer path beneath them. As the journey continued, Lancelot's replies became shorter, and quieter, until an uneasy void of conversation formed. Breaking into the clearing, shaking ice off the heads of heather stalks, Sonic wasn't sure how to breach it.

Lancelot did so himself, sliding off his palfrey with a sigh and leaning his head against the neck of the horse. "I. Am sorry, Sonic."

Jumping off the back of the mare, Sonic's brow bounced upward in surprise. "What for? You been docking my wages? I thought it was always silly I wasn't being-"

_"Sonic."_

Seriousness dripped from his tone, and Sonic forced his joy into a tight little corner so he could match the situation. Whatever weighed on Lancelot's shoulders, it wouldn't be wise to pelt it with jokes. "Sorry. I'm listening. What's up?"

Lancelot lifted his head from his horse's pelt and slowly began to unpack, taking a pair of training swords from the saddlebags. "The day after Christmas. I attacked you, did I not?"

His heart joined his stomach, and Sonic nodded gently in return, before finding his voice once again. "Uh, yeah. You. You did, tried to punch me a couple times. But hey, water under the bridge, right?" The knight-in-training's flippant attitude did not make Lancelot any happier, and the Head of the Round Table abandoned his unpacking. Dropping the swords onto the grass, he huffed a breath, drawing his hands through his quills anxiously. 

"No, it is not 'water under the bridge'. I never truly apologized for my actions, not seriously. I was not paying you full attention, and when you were, rightfully, unhappy with me, I lashed out rather than apologize. When you knocked me down, I brushed aside what I had done rather than apologize." Forcing his eyes up from the ground, his ruby ones bored into Sonic's own, making the hedgehog's breath stop in his lungs for a heartbeat. Lancelot continued on, gesturing widely with one hand, the other remaining locked in his quills. This... Egregious, break of manners has been eating away at me for some time now. I do hope you forgive me?" The black knight's hand came back to rest on his chest, and Sonic swallowed.

"... Yeah, sure. I never took it too personally anyway, you know? Don't worry yourself about it!"

Relief was palpable in the air, as Lancelot's shoulders, tense and squared as if for a fight, sagged into relaxation once more. "Thank you, Sonic. It will not happen again. Now, I brought two swords today. It's time you learned how to duel, rather than merely hold and swing at a dummy."

"Run that one by me again?"

* * *

Taking his stance was by now, nearly second nature, as Sonic's feet fell into place. Spread apart to keep him grounded, sword held firmly in his hands, he no longer felt the crushing weight of it like he did that first time it was placed in his grip. However, to stand opposite of Lancelot, the knight in question having no visor, nor armor, it seemed like some part of this was wrong. "Not used to seeing you hold a sword out of armor."

"That is your only comment?" Lancelot's baffled tone reached his eyes, as his eyebrows went up, training sword lowering a touch. Sonic's only reply was a shrug, until he studied the knight closer.

"Hey, you're holding your sword wrong!"

With another quizzical turn of his features, Lancelot studied himself, until his tongue clucked in recognition. "Ah, yes. To you, I am holding it wrong." Lancelot's practice blade, rather than being held out in front of him like Sonic's, was instead held in only a singular hand, the 'blade' pointed down and to the side. It was the opposite of everything Sonic had been taught. "My mistake, I forgot you were not a practiced swordsman," he explained, as he effortlessly changed the sword around to place it mirroring Sonic's. "That is called a reverse grip. It is how I use my sword. Not a common style to fight with, or against, and thus it has it's advantages. Though it does give you an awful backache after a time," he complained, rocking his shoulders backward and forwards to loosen up his muscles.

"Seeing you whip that sword around without a care is depressing," Sonic muttered glumly. It took him weeks to get to where he was now!

"I've been at this many more years than you, Sonic, of course I can 'whip a sword around'. Enough chatter. I'm going to hit you, and you're going to block it like I showed you."

"Wait wait wait hold on, what-!"

Protests fell upon deaf ears, as Lancelot's strike came, fast and astoundingly hard, for training. Sonic shifted his foot backward, rapidly pivoting his sword over his wrist to bring it up, diagonally across his body, guarding against Lancelot's fierce swipe. The motion was quick enough, but the impact of the heavy wood and lead sword made his teeth rattle in his head from where they were grit, and the vibrations going down the hilt and into his arms were too much. Sonic fumbled his sword, ignoring the spike of pain in his wrist to reclaim his fallen prize. "Hey, not cool, warn me next time!"

Idly standing by while Sonic recovered from the first attack, Lancelot was unfazed, his expression blank, and perhaps, somewhat bored. "An enemy will not give you time to prepare to be hit. You'll merely have to respond in time to avoid being hit. Armor will only help you so much in the long run of things."

Indignation sparked in Sonic's chest, rubbing his wrist with his other hand, balancing his sword tip in the grass while he did so. "I'm not as good at this as you, could you at least be a little gentler?"

"I could force you back into stance exercises if you wish," came the dry reply, but, Sonic's point was taken. Lancelot fluffed his quills with a puff of breath, seeming to give in. "Alright. I will go a bit more slowly, so you can get used to switching your position on the fly. Moving your wrists is not the only thing, you are allowed to move backward to avoid my strikes, if you wish."

With a muffled sigh of relief, Sonic's angered expression tempered itself from a sneer into a small smile, confidence restored to his body. "You know, Lance, you're getting to be a lot more reasonable!"

"Oh, heavens help me if I'm ever remembered as 'Lancelot the Reasonable'."

"I could call you 'Lancelot the Ill-Tempered?"

The next strike from Lancelot was much slower than before, though not exactly playful, and Sonic moved his sword to block it with joy nestled in his soul once more. _This is gonna work out just fine._


	19. Spring Chickenhawk

"Would you like to go hawking with me?"

"What?"

Laid in the grass in their secluded training spot, Sonic glanced up at the knight, packing up their belongings and fetching lunch in turn. "Run that one by me again, Lance? Hawking?"

"Yes, falconry. It is spring, and I should take my bird from the mews and fly him. Would you like to accompany me?"

With a shrug, Sonic returned his gaze skyward. Flocks of birds were returning to Camelot for the spring to breed, he could already hear the early arrivals singing in the trees. Warblers, turtledoves, and cuckoos, all singing to herald the arrival of warmer weather and plentiful food. Soon enough he would be hearing chicks, too. "Yeah, sure. Why not? I've never been hawking, though."

* * *

In Camelot, knights could be likened to something like our sports teams. The peasants who could afford to have a stake in such things, those in larger towns where tourneys were held, typically opted to pick a favorite, and root for them in all things. Hedge knights and hose without much claim to fame were not an exception to this, but many of the bets and outcries of support were given to the Knights of the Round Table, the biggest and the best. Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawaine, Sir Percival, each of them had a large portion of Camelot rooting for them in all competitions, even if Lancelot had never lost a joust. The ebb and flow of the favor passed through the knights, but much like modern-day sports players, there were always those who kept an eye on the newcomers, the up-and-coming. Sonic was, much to his delight, someone who was considered 'up and coming'. A knight, trained by Sir Lancelot himself? Although Sonic had never seen true combat, and his mettle was yet untested, he gathered a few fans along his journey to knighthood, and was collecting more each time he was seen with the other knights.

Today, as he approached the large, open field where the hawks were trained and flown, Sonic felt a large number of eyes turned towards him, following at Lancelot's heels. They were not alone, other knights were here too, practicing their hawking, along with some of the higher-ranked castle staff. Those who could afford a hawk cherished the activity of hawking, and nobody was immune to the craze that the swooping birds alighted in everyone. Ignoring the feeling of being an animal in a cage, Sonic cast his eyes to the skies, watching the others loose their birds and put them through their paces. It was a glorious sight, the brief suspension in the air before a falcon dropped to snag it's prey, taking it back to their handler for a reward. It was such a sight that Lancelot advanced a good twenty paces before Sonic came back to earth, and caught up with Lancelot.

Feeding his hawk bits of meat from a pouch at his side, Lancelot made no comment as Sonic caught up, stopping beside him to examine the large bird perched on Lancelot's gloved fist. He gave a low, appreciative whistle as the falcon eagerly snapped the morsel from Lancelot's hand. "That's a pretty big bird!"

"A sakeret," Lancelot said proudly, puffing out his chest as Sonic complimented his falcon. "It's a very expensive bird. Arthur gifted him to me a few years ago, so we could go hawking together..." Trailing off his words as painful memories flooded in, Lancelot quickly changed the subject. "He's almost as prized as a gyrfalcon, but only the king can have one of those. Technically, if I asked, I could have a peregrine, but I prefer my male saker. He's smaller, and I trained him myself." 

Completely uneducated in the world of falconry, Sonic felt as if he had just stepped into a puddle that was far deeper than it first appeared. However, he smiled politely and nodded as if he understood, unwilling to breach the depths of Lancelot and Arthur. "He must be pretty well trained then!"

Heaving a soft sigh, Lancelot shook his head with an appreciative turn of his lips. "I thank you. But he has been in his mews all winter, and thus, needs to be flown again. The castle falconer his done his best, but nothing like a true flight. And because I do not trust her, I will need your help."

The blue hedgehog stuck his thumbs in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "I can't hold a bird, Lance. I don't know anything about hawks."

"I don't expect you to fly him, simpleton." The insult didn't come across quite as mean as Sonic would have expected, and instead, Lancelot handed him...

"A ball of leather?"

"That's called a creance. It attaches to the falcon's jesses just there, see?" Illustrated the knight, indicating the leather bands around his hawk's ankle. "So I can fly it without worrying he's gone wild and will fly off. All I need you to do is hold it, and then help me wind it back up when the hawk comes back with it's prey. Got it?"

"Got-" Was the only word that emerged from his mouth before Lancelot released the bird, and at once, it opened up it's wings and took off. Being a hungry bird, it rose to the sky and began to circle, looking for food in the open field. With all the other hawks spread across the field, and all the other angry men with creances and hungry falcons, it would be a while before anything was flushed out. The silence stretched, for a moment, until Lancelot spoke again.

"This is nice."

"Huh?" The sudden comment caught Sonic off guard, and he looked to Lancelot in surprise. "What's nice? The day?"

Arms crossed over his chest, watching his hawk circle in the sky, Lancelot looked relaxed. At peace, nearly, though a hidden discontent swum beneath the surface of his calm air. "This. Being able to go out and simply... Indulge in a pastime, with a friend. I had been feeling overworked, before I met you. Busy, all the time, war, knighthood, all sorts of other dramas that I never wanted to deal with when I thought of becoming a knight. But the winter, and the spring... They have been peaceful. It is so nice to get to relax, I suppose, is what I'm saying."

Dumbstruck by such a blatant and honest answer, Sonic could do naught but stare back at the knight. A gentle smile on his face, quills half-loose in the spring breeze, looking up, proudly, at his saker falcon. This was not the gruff and aggressive Lancelot who pulled him out of his home those months ago, but rather somebody new. Somebody who could think and feel, a real person. Feeling uncharacteristically without words, Sonic took far too long to squeak out a pathetic reply, to such a baring of Lancelot's soul. "Oh, we're friends now, huh?"

Expecting a sharp and withering look in response to his quip, Sonic found another pleasant surprise when Lancelot merely laughed. Nothing bellowing, but rather a contained one, more than a chuckle, but far behind a howl. He wiped the corner of his eye with a finger, not the one covered by the thick falconer's glove. "Yes, Sonic. I do consider us, at the bare minimum, friendly associates."

"Oh," the other hedgehog replied, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, sometimes you can be so hostile I never really know! Good to know I've achieved associate status, what do I need to do to become best friend?"

"Hmm," Lancelot began, though whatever witty retort he was going to offer was cut short by an unexpected, and unwelcome, arrival.

"Sir Lancelot! Sir Lancelot, sir," cried a harried and incredibly alarmed voice. "Sir Lancelot! Are you out here?!"

Both men turned from their activity, though Lancelot kept one eye on his hawk, to greet this new player in their game. A bank vole, wearing the uniform of castle staff, out of breath and red in the face, came to a halt before them. Dropping into a bow, or perhaps, catching his breath, the vole paid Sonic no mind. Instead, he directed his tuckered out, panicked self to the great knight beside him. "What is it?" Lancelot grumbled, his famous black temper back on display for all.

Undeterred by this show of a lack of care, the vole straightened up. "You've been summoned back to Camelot, sir. The King has called a meeting for the Round Table!"

Shock flashed across Lancelot's rough features, the source of which, Sonic couldn't say. He was struck dumb by the rapid turn of events, the quiet afternoon turning into another storm of court politics. Sonic was beginning to hate the very mention of the king, by name or by title. "Ah, well." Lancelot stated, somewhat blandly, deadpan, showing no indication of how he felt about this intrusion. At once, Lancelot held out his arm, much to the confusion of both men present.

At once, his saker landed back on his arm, dropping a dead rabbit at his feet. Feeding his hawk a morsel of meat from the pouch at his side, Lancelot shrugged his shoulders, stooping to collect his catch. "I suppose there's nothing for it, then. Back to Camelot we go." 


	20. Crashing Down

The vole, whose name they eventually collected as ‘Peter’, seemed dreadfully sorry to bother the Head of the Round Table at his leisure. Lancelot seemed to be undisturbed by the intrusion, and was uncharacteristically lax about the affair. However, as Sonic walked beside him in silence, hurried steps betraying his haste to tend to his king, Sonic could see the tiny stress tics in his behavior. The tensed shoulders, the hunched, haggard look about him, the miniscule creases by his eyes. It was concerning, but to ask after his emotions right now would be folly. The deep sapphire sky bore witness to Lancelot passing off his prized sakeret to Peter at the gate of the castle and stalking in. 

Sonic couldn’t shake the deep sense of foreboding as the knight crossed the grounds, and disappeared into the castle at large. 

* * *

Having passed off his tasks to the other stablehands to spend the day with Lancelot, promising to cover their tasks another day in return, Sonic found himself at a loss for what to do. He pounded the cobblestone roads all morning, as the sun climbed higher, looking for something to do, someone to help. His boredom brought him to the forge, to drop in on Miles. He heard the pounding of a blacksmith's hammer long before he arrived, and the thick black smoke gave him his answer long before he got there. He poked his head in past the door, catching sight of his orange friend hard at work. His fur was dyed a dusky brown color from the soot and ash, and it took him a moment to even notice Sonic.

Miles grinned and waved with his tails, as his hands were busy at the anvil. "Hi, Sonic! Do you need something?"

Sonic knew, in this type of rush, he would have mere moments to talk. "Hey, bud! I was gonna ask if you were free, but..."

The happy smile on his buddy's face drooped, and he shook his head. "Sorry, Sonic. I'm busy today. And it's not the kind of busy you can help with either!"

Saying goodbye to Miles, Sonic had left. Charlie was out of his reach, he knew, as the Round Table was meeting, and the castle was typically closed to rogue wanderers anyway. That avenue of entertainment was closed off to him as well. He turned towards the rest of the town and started walking, seeking adventure.

The town was busy, as usual. Spring cleaning was underway, doorways opened to the outside as dust was swept out by women with small children clinging to their skirts. The market was reopening, with salesmen hawking their wares and the citizens haggling over the price of the goods, an age-old argument. No new shipments of anything seemed to have arrived, so nobody needed help unpacking. As he strolled around Castle Town, browsing the market stalls but finding nothing that piqued his interest, observing the newly-returning songbirds and avoiding puddles, it struck him how much his life now seemed to depend on Lancelot. His days were organized according to when and where Lancelot might be, how much of his time the older knight wanted. It was… Odd. Not unpleasant, perhaps, but odd. Rats scuttled away and peered at him from their hiding places as he passed, under boxes, from behind pallets, but he paid them no heed. They were hungry after a long winter, and he noticed, so was he. Giving up on his quest to slay the monster that was free time, he decided to wait for Lancelot to be done. 

Returning to his room in the stables, hankering after his wallet to get a bite to eat and also to browse the stalls with more purpose, Sonic blinked. On his bedroll, marked by his own belongings and a not-insignificant amount of blue quills, rested a small box. Sonic looked around, searching for any indication of who might have left the gift. Nobody else was there, and nobody had been. It was very late in the morning, nearly noon, and the rest of the stablehands were busy with the horses. The soft whickering they usually produced was gone, as they were all out to enjoy the day, and the new spring grasses. 

Slowly, and with a great deal of caution, Sonic grabbed a broom and approached the box. It sat still, as inanimate objects are prone to do. Sonic carefully poked it with the far handle of the cleaning instrument and then leapt back, raising his broom to defend himself. The box gave no indication it was offended by the motion. Sighing and shaking his head, Sonic chuckled and put the broom aside. In a world of enchanted objects, one always had to be careful of anything that seemed to move on it’s own. Deeming it safe, Sonic finally approached and looked closer at the box. 

The dim light in the room winked off the cheery exterior. It was a small wooden box, nicely polished, with a black metal lock on the outside. It was no bigger than a tankard, and wider than it was tall, merely a few inches high. and Sonic took note of, well, a note, attached to the top with a glob of purple wax. Sitting down on the roll, Sonic took the piece of parchment. Fine letters scrolled across it, obviously penned by someone who had been taught their writing at an early age. His eyes scanned the words, slowly, as he wanted to be sure he read it correctly.

_ For my new favorite knight. _

That was all. Sonic looked at both sides of the parchment, as if more words might magically appear, but there was nothing. Simply that one sentence, five words.  _ Maybe there’s more inside? _ Sonic wondered to himself. Setting aside the note, he took the box into his lap, and popped it open. 

Something delightful hit his nose, sugary and sweet. Small, shiny balls sat in a bed of softly spun sugar, and Sonic knew that whoever sent him this small box was clearly very wealthy. Sugar was hard to obtain, and he’d never had much candy in his life, save for honey. He picked one up experimentally. It was a bright golden color, dusted with flakes of what he assumed was almond and sugar. Inside was some kind of jam, or liquid, as he could see it sloshing around inside its hard shell. There were only three of them in the container, but it had likely cost a fortune. Shrugging his shoulders, Sonic put one experimentally in his mouth.   
  
The warmth hit his tongue and spread over his mouth. The honey shell dissolved quickly, so quickly he almost didn’t get to bite it. The jammy substance inside proved to be tart, likely apple, or pear. Maybe strawberry? Whatever it was, it was fruity and runny, and coated his tongue immediately. Sweet and tart at the same time, with a hint of something nutty, Sonic swallowed and licked his lips, immediately hungry for another. He reached into the box, then checked himself. “I should save these,” he said to himself, closing the lid on the box and locking it again. “Maybe eat one when I’m having a bad day?”

“What are you talking about?”

Lancelot’s shadow darkened the doorway. Sonic jumped, turning around. Lancelot stood, tall and rigid, one hand on the doorframe. His expression didn’t invite any kind of tomfoolery, thus, Sonic pretended the box wasn’t there. “Nothing. What’s going on?”   
  
To his credit, Lancelot also ignored the box. Perhaps he truly didn’t see it. Sonic picked up Lancelot’s growing signs of stress, the tension in his hands and jaw. This would have to be handled delicately, and he rose from his bedroll. Lancelot dragged a hand down his face, every last one of his years showing plainly on his face. “The war is back on. We leave next week.”   
  
“Hold on,  _ we? _ You mean you and the knights, right?”

“No. I mean we, as in, us two. I’d like to take you with me.”

The last lingering bits of sweet and sticky jam faded from Sonic’s mouth as it went dry. "What do you mean, take me with you? I'm not a knight!"

"Don't be silly," snapped Lancelot, short-tempered as he ever was. "I would take you on as a ward. Maybe even a squire, your sword skills are good enough that I doubt you'll get yourself killed. I'd give you a sword and teach you what I know in a real setting."

The weight of the offer wasn't lost on Sonic, but there were more important things to deal with at the moment. Sonic raised his hands to his chest. "Wait wait, let's back it up again, who said you're going back to war? War with who?"

Irritable, but not entirely without patience, Lancelot put his head against the doorframe and took a deep breath. "One question at a time! I'll answer all this later, I need your response, now, so I can go and get prepared for it. Are you going to come with me or not?"

Something about that struck Sonic as oddly funny, though now was not the time for sarcasm. "I... Get to choose?"

"Yes, you idiot, you get to choose! I won't drag you along if you don't want to go!"

Sonic weighed his options. He could stay here, but even he knew, Lancelot was training him by himself, and likely going around a lot of rule to do so. Without him, he'd be getting no training and likely fall into a rut. He was recruited for the war effort too, and now that it was back on... He should go. If anything, he would go just to stay near Lancelot. Miles and Charlie had their own job, they could function without him. Right?  
  
A steely resolve grew somewhere in his chest, and he nodded. "Yeah. I'll go with you."


	21. Comedic Timing

In the old days, to become a knight was no small thing, and not anyone could do it. A knight’s son, or a duke’s sons, or anyone of standing who had children, could become a knight. Chosen for this job at birth, or perhaps choosing it for themselves as a boy, they would get an education from their parents. Attending tournaments and hearing deeds of knightly courage was not an act of time-wasting, but rather, important education for their years ahead. At the age of seven or so, they would bid their parents goodbye, and ride away to undergo training elsewhere. Sometimes they would stay at home, but it was more common in the ‘correct’ order of steps for an aspiring knight to be sent away. A cousin, an uncle, or even a trusted family friend would take in the boy, and name them a ‘page’.   
  
Charlie is a page, but not a ‘knightly’ page. More of a servant page than a knightly one, he is avoiding many of the other, more arduous goals that the other pages endure. A page would be taught the basics of knighthood in this castle-away-from-castle, being taught to tilt, and ride a horse. However, they would also be educated in other matters. Backgammon and chess, common games of the nobility, would be an area of expertise in some knights. In others, they would be trained to debate round and round about philosophy, religion, and Might versus Right. Still more denounced all the matters as ‘hogwash’, and only focused on their horse riding and the force they put in their lance.

Lancelot shunned not one area of his knightly education, and thus, he was the greatest of them all, but that matters not in the moment.

Once a page had been at their education, at the age of fourteen, they would be made, formally, into a ‘squire’. An announcement would be made, or at the very least the word would be passed by mouth to anyone who cared and those of consequence, until everyone knew who had a new squire. The squire served all sorts of functions, mainly attending their knight, cleaning armor, and generally fussing with the up-keep of their teacher. In exchange, they would be given chances to prove themselves, and eventually, be made into a knight in earnest.

This was the ‘proper’ way to do things, but of course, the ‘proper’ way is typically language used to exclude those who did not meet prior qualifications. Some knights slipped through the cracks of the ‘men of standing only’ occupation. Ser Percival had fought tooth and claw to get onto the table, and now, she could beat any man in a swordfight, and deliver barbs sharper than any blade if prompted. Lancelot, smelling of lakewater and magic, simply ‘decided’ he was Arthur’s squire, and became such. Lancelot broke most, if not all of, the rules he tried to upkeep, and thus his new and informal way of claiming a squire was not noticed, and not fought about in the week leading up to the war host’s departure. Sonic was too old to be a squire, but nobody cared. When there was war to be waged, only two things were cared about : Fighting it, and avoiding it. 

What was noticed, Sonic discovered, as he hurried around the castle in his quest to prepare Lancelot’s, and his own, belongings, was that the act of Lancelot  _ taking _ a squire was either unheard of, a sign of insanity, or the repeat of a mistake, depending on who was listening. He tried to ask about it, a few times, to the knights he had become acquainted with. Gawaine had told him to bugger off, as he had been quite upset from the moment Percival left. Lamorak gave him some kind of grumpy muttering about Lancelot’s skills, (which, Sonic discovered later, was because Lamorak was the third best jouster in the Round Table, and was determined to become the best), and everyone else either ignored him, or looked away. Whatever the story was, it wasn’t important in the moment, and Sonic was so busy he hardly gave it thought.

Running in and out of the castle, unfortunately, did not give him time to see Charlie. He caught a few glimpses of the young rabbit, bounding down stairs or through the passageways used by servants, but the most they ever got was a clipped ‘how-de-do?’ before they were parted again. The week passed in relative monotony, with nothing noteworthy whatsoever. Sonic fetched Lancelot’s belongings from his room in the castle, a modest one, on the lower floors. All his things were sequestered there, save for other items like his books and personal effects. Where those had been hidden, Sonic was unsure, but he didn’t have time to ask. 

Mid-way through that week, Sonic indulged himself in a second candy. Tired and sore, he had curled up on his bed long after any man in their right mind would have, opened the box with a hand, and put the second little morsel in his mouth. With no Lancelot around to wake him, he was allowed to savor it. He pushed the thoughts of ruining his teeth brushing out of his mind, and enjoyed the lingering tastes while his felt his bones succumbing to the exhaustion. He thought that, perhaps, this second candy was better than the first, and when he awoke in the morning his aches were gone, and there was warmth in his body. He chalked the taste up to his heightened stress making him enjoy the small pleasure of a treat, and went about his day once more.

The dawn of his last day in Camelot broke cold and clear, as winter valiantly charged through spring to make itself, and it’s horrors, known one last time. The sunshine was weak, and Sonic knew by the others outdoors that a jacket and long-sleeved tunic was a good idea. However, even as he pulled on his new doublet, he felt sweat prickle at the back of his neck, and tossed it back in his bag before he finished dressing. It was the last bag he had, as all his other belongings, of which there were few, were already trussed up in a cart. He merely had a few goodbyes to say before he knew he would be leaving for good.

One goodbye he did not have to make, was to his horse. His mare, whom he had at last given a name, was coming along. Lacey, as she was now known, was a good palfrey. She could not charge, she could not tilt, but she could amble along a while and that was all that he needed her to do. Her stall was empty, curiously, and he scratched his head about it. Buddy was gone too, the charger’s stall also cleaned right out. Sonic put his hands on his hips, thought about it, and then looked to the window, as something wasn’t quite right. The sunshine came through, clear and bright, and it was too high in the sky to be anything but beyond a normal time.

He had woken up very, very late.

Feeling a rising tide of panic, like one might get in a nightmare about being late for school, or to miss a deadline, Sonic dashed back into his room. He rolled up his bedroll, bagged up his bag, and generally confused himself about what he was doing and if he got everything. His eyes, at last, fell upon his last belonging : His candy box. His hand reached for it automatically, and opened it.  _ Why shouldn’t I? _ He thought, putting the last one in his mouth. He hardly tasted it. I’m already late.  _ And the box will mark my spot for when I get back, _ he reasoned, even as he picked it up, sugar still in the bottom, and stuffed it into his bag. Logic and reason were concepts far away, and he raced out of the stables.

The atmosphere outside was rather like Christmas again, with excitement and anticipation in the air. However, it was a Christmas for a naughty child, who only anticipated coal, and nobody was happy. A column of carts extended up to the castle gates, and Sonic had to carefully control his speed to avoid crashing into anybody on his mad dash to the front of it. He recognized Buddy’s proud head from a mile away, near the beginning of the entire affair, and skidded to a halt. The mid-morning air burned coldly in his lungs, and he was sweating at the temples. Lancelot, engrossed in checking his cart, did not notice him until Sonic heaved a sigh and put his hands on his knees, panting. Even so, he seemed in an odd humor, and didn’t chastise him for his lateness.   
  
“Go and say goodbye,” were his only words, and he angled his head toward the building behind him. Sonic looked up, head muddled, and blankly read the sign before his brain caught up. In a moment, prior to even his head catching up, the heads of his friends popped out of the door, and he was taken up in one, but actually two, hug(s), three if you were to count Tails’ tails, which also wrapped around his midsection. Tails had taken his neck, and Charlie his chest, until Sonic felt quite odd even trying to put his own arms around them at all. They stepped back, identical grins on their faces, and Sonic put one on himself.

“Goodbye, Sonic!” Said Charlie, grinning despite the sadness of the situation. His normal nervous expression was masked over with happiness, like everyone was nothing but confident everything would turn out just fine, and this war against the mystery opponent was going to end up roses. “We’ll see you again after the war ends, won’t we?”

“Yes,” said Sonic absently, willing his mind to put itself together again and behave. “I’ll be back when the war’s ended.”

“I have a present,” Tails interrupted, unwinding his namesake to grab a cloth-covered something from the wall. His tails, occupied, could not swish and twitch with fear for Sonic. “Lancelot had me make it. It’s not a good sword, I made it in a week and worked hard, but it should serve you fine, yeah?” Holding the sword in one tail, the other went back around his waist, and squeezed him tightly. Sonic felt too warm.

“Thanks, Tails, I owe you one. Now I think we have to get going?”

“Are you alright?” Asked Charlie. “You look a little pale.”   
  
“Winter sun, that’s all. Lance, sorry I’m late, I overslept.” Disentangling himself from his friends, he turned his head over his shoulder, and gave his buddies identical twin rubs on the head. Two hands swatted his own away, and he picked up the sword. He didn’t bother unwrapping it yet.

Lancelot, still busy in his cart, still paid him no notice. Lacey stood by, placid as ever, out of reach of Buddy’s teeth, but just barely. “Don’t bother apologizing. You’re on time regardless. The other stablehands packed up your horses.” Finally emerging from his rummaging, at last, he pulled something out and presented it to Sonic. “Here.”   
  
“What is that?”   
  
“A doublet. It’s cold today, and you’re my squire.”   
  
“Why are you giving me a doublet?”   
  
“Because it’s cold, and as a squire, you’re expected to wear my colors. The red and black. I had to fight Gawaine for them, and it took all day to finally beat him in a melee for the right to claim these as mine. Why aren’t you wearing a doublet?”   
  
Sonic looked down at himself, then shrugged. “I wasn’t cold. And I woke up late.”

Lancelot squinted at him suspiciously, then looked him up and down. “Are you alright? You’re shaky in the knees. Like you’ve had too much to drink.” Tails and Charlie also reappeared in his line of sight, blinking in like a pair of starlings. Sonic's chest tightened, knowing this was the last he'd see of them, likely for months. He didn't want to upset them by making too big a deal of it, but... He needed to give them a better goodbye.

“Never better,” Sonic assured him, taking a step and reaching for the doublet Lancelot had offered. Lancelot drew the clothing back into his chest, and his mouth was moving, but Sonic had bigger priorities than to listen. Like, namely, giving in to the call of his mind, which said now was a good time to close his eyes, go limp, and go right to the ground. He felt the impact of the cold cobblestone road on his body, but no real pain. Then, he felt nothing at all.


	22. Ring of Roses

Lights swam somewhere in his little paradise like dust motes in a beam of sun, disturbing his rest. Dark and warm, with a pleasant drone in his ears, Sonic felt that it was best to return to the darkness and the lovely warmth, and to ignore whatever was going on outside. Whatever it was, the buzzing, the droning, was growing louder and more irritating, and if he were to go back to resting, it would likely go right away and he could rest again.  _ So tired _ , a voice whispered in his mind. It was sharp, he concluded, thinking without conscious, coherent thought. More feelings, the ghosts of words, than true thoughts. The voice, at any rate, and at any level of competency, was sharp, and skittering. Like a spider, with the paws of a rat, it was crawling inside his skull. Talking in both his ears at once, drowning out all other noises, he grew rather used to it in the time it was there. Time was the correct word to use, he wagered to himself, as he couldn’t be sure of how long he was out. A day, a decade, it made no difference to him, because there was nothing but the Voice and the Darkness and the Warmth, and his positive feelings towards the Darkness and Warmth bled into the Voice. He could hear nothing, feel nothing, and see nothing, and was quite happy to remain that way.

Far away, a dull sensation was registered in his body. It was not the Warmth he was accustomed to, and felt affable toward, but something else. Sonic felt the Voice hiss, and the Darkness pulsed away from him, and he could see once more. A blurry space in front of him, which he knew was a room, as the outside typically was not made of stacked stone, with black tapestries around the walls. Figures were there with him, Sonic could see that plainly, though one in particular was hovering. A grey smudge, he felt pressure under his head, and something was lifting it off wherever he was laying. The Warmth had also faded, though he was still warm. His body had sunk into something cozy, and soft, and thick cloth blankets were pulled over his body. Is this a feather bed? His own mental voice had returned, driving back the other Voice. I’ve never been in a feather bed.   
  
The dull sensation proved to be the glass lip of some kind of bottle, and he took the firm pressing of it against his lip as an incentive to open his mouth. In no place to argue, he tried to pry his jaw open, but could only manage an inch. It was enough, and something was poured in. He couldn’t taste it. His mouth tasted like nothingness, not even the remnants of candy, and he swallowed it anyway. The Voice did not like that, and screeched it’s rage at any administrations on it’s charge. Which, Sonic supposed, was him. His head was laid down gently on a feather pillow, another luxury he never had before in his life, and his eyes cleared. He slowly drew his mouth closed, eye half-opened, the other pressed to the pillow, and watched the proceedings.

The Warmth and Darkness had also receded, now leaving him with his real body and his real senses. He didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder at what had happened to him, what was done to strip him of his most basic of capabilities, so he laid, and listened, for when he could think. The grey blob from the glass bottle at his lips sharpened a little, though not into anybody recognizable. Lancelot was also there, he realized, his mouth moving, words floating into empty air. Sonic strained to understand them.

“... delayed a day,” came Lancelot’s fierce snarl, swimming into focus like the tuning of an instrument. It wavered, but held in it’s clarity as he continued to speak. Sonic couldn’t track his movements, and he seemed to wobble around the area, like someone had tossed a rock into a puddle, and he was watching them in it as they walked back and forth. “He is sick, and I am not staying and waiting.”

“But wait!” Cried a voice from behind him, gentle and feminine. Laid on the bed as he was, Sonic’s head was turned to the left side of the room. The door was there, and Lancelot and the smudge. Vaguely, he identified the voice of the exclaimer.  _ Merlina? _

“But wait,  _ what?” _

“You can’t keep him here!”

“I can do whatever I want, it’s my  _ fucking _ room Merlina!”

There was pressure beside him on the bed, and as it relaxed, he realized Merlina had been sitting beside him. He didn’t even notice she had been there, but then, he was rather indisposed. He granted himself forgiveness, though why he would even need it, he wasn’t sure. Still not right in the head, he watched as Merlina walked into view. Her footsteps were nearly silent on the rug that covered most of the floor, and he thought she may have had her hands wringing before herself. With his vision clouded like it was, it was hard to tell anything. “No, you can’t keep him,” the young lady begged, desperation crawling into her voice. “You can’t, I’ve seen it in my visions, if he does not go, we will surely lose!”

The growl that reverberated into Sonic’s ears wasn’t one he thought could come from Lancelot. “I don’t have the patience for this, he is staying here! I can’t have plague in my war host, and I’m not turning him out to die in the stables! I’m Head of the Round Table and you are a  _ magician, _ you are going to listen and keep him here until he’s better! Am I clear?!”

“Well, as Royal Augur, my visions are more important than your emotions!” Merlina stamped her slippered paw onto the ground, voice raising in volume. Her tone was strained, her back straight. This was not an argument she was going to lose. When it seemed as if this would go on forever, and Sonic’s eyes began to shut once more, at last, someone broke the chaos.   
  
“No.”

The grey figure, at last, added himself to the discussion, piping up to quash the disagreement. His voice was somewhat aged, betraying experience and wisdom, rather than mere years. Both Lancelot and Merlina whipped their heads around to look at him. Sonic thought Merlina’s mouth may have dropped open, though it was once more becoming hard to see. “What?” Came the hoarse whisper, though Sonic couldn’t determine the origin. His bed seemed to be getting softer beneath him, and he gently tried to move his body to sink into it. He didn’t succeed in doing more than rustling the covers, and the heads now rocketed around to look at him. He took as deep of a breath as he could, which wasn’t very deep, but it seemed to ease the tension. The grey man sighed, and spoke again.

“If he is not well by nightfall, you may leave by morning, Lancelot. It is all I can do. I agree, he will not recover on the road, but perhaps that last antidote was the correct one.”   
  
Antidote? The word rang inside his skull, buzzing around. The buzzing, he discovered, was the Voice once more. Rather than being comforted by its presence, though, Sonic… Hated it. He wanted it gone, in the way one might be bothered by a moth blitzing around a lamp, minorly annoyed, but unmotivated to do it any real harm until it becomes a real problem. His energy began to drain away, his limbs turned back to lead, and the Warmth and Darkness returned. They bundled him up in their embrace, but as Merlina protested, Sonic caught one last sentence.   
  
“... Thank you, Merlyn.”

* * *

Time became a fondue again, melty and endless, in that way that fondue seems to be. A warm soup of what could have been hours or minutes, Sonic existed. Waking up seemed to be a distant dream, though he was aware he had been awake, at some point. More antidote, something to eat, whatever happened, he wasn’t entirely certain, it was all covered in his mental melting pot. Thoughts and memories blended together until he was unsure of what had truly happened, what was happening, and what would never happen at all. Lancelot’s countenance floated in and out, and though Sonic grasped at it, he couldn’t truly take hold and pull himself up. The Warmth and Darkness and the Voice, especially, had now become unfriendly.

When he was conscious, he grappled and clung to it as best he could, though he never felt as ‘awake’ as he had when Merlina and Lancelot were there. He tossed the name ‘Merlyn’ around in his head, knowing it was important but eventually it tumbled back into the washing basin that was his brain and was scrubbed away, to be replaced with a feverish daydream. It was all too much, and his head was thick, like it was inside a fancy dessert jelly.

At once, he realized he was in the waking world once more. Conscious and understanding, no, but awake? Yes. His eyes opened slowly, and he tried to look around, every flick of his optics an arduous task. Something was moving, but it took him a while to hone in on it and take in any details, weakly lifting his head as much as he could. The person with him was tall, though everyone was when you were laid down on a very plush feather bed. The moonlight in the window glittered across their face, alighting on a kindly smile and gentle, silverish eyes of aegean blue. The light then danced across the crystal of another bottle, which the stranger had produced from within their cloak. Calmed by the sight of another potion of some variety, Sonic laid his head and neck back on his pillow, and relaxed.

His new company smiled at him again, eyes crinkling at the edges. His own edges, Sonic realized, were blurry, though he assumed it was a side-product of his illness. A large, gentle hand picked his head up, and he did his best to drink whatever was presented without complaint. Unlike the other potions and medicines, though, this one exploded with taste. What it was, Sonic could not identify, but he knew it had a taste, because it brought him memories. Sitting in the summer grass with his mother, eating wild strawberries as a very small child. Rolling down hills with his friends when he should be busy, standing at the shore of a lake with sword in hand, light glittering across it’s glassy surface-   
  
Sonic blinked, knitting his brows in confusion. He had never done those things. Had he? The hill was so real, and the strawberry taste and sticky feeling hung around his lips and mouth. The kindly stranger smiled at him, a wide, true smile, and gently patted his head. “There now,” said the figure, withdrawing their hand and stepping away. “You will be better soon. Goodbye, my friend.”

Sonic closed his eyes, and fell back to sleep, discounting the entire experience as a dream. The ‘memories’ still replayed in his mind, and the leather of the sword’s pommel felt smooth in his hand. The fresh grass and strawberries invaded his senses, and he went back to sleep. He did not take note of it, but the Voice, Warmth, and Darkness, were now all gone.


	23. Recovery

Though his saviour had come, bearing a crystal bottle with contents unknown, the battle was not yet dispensed with. Sonic awoke, back laid against a sandy, grassy plain, feeling every grain as if it was a needle against his spine. Slowly, rubbing his eyes and wondering where he was, he sat up, and opened his senses to the world around him. The sun was high in the sky, shining down on him with a silvery light that came from heaven above. The sky was the same blue as only the most beautiful of sapphires, but it still held a washed-out tone. As Sonic looked around, he noticed everything did. The grass the thumbed between his fingers was a pale, pallid green, the water that gently lapped at the lake behind him a horrible grey. As he looked down and took in his own appearance, Sonic startled.

Rather than the doublet Lancelot had given him, or any clothes he knew he owned, he was dressed like... Well, a knight, minus the armor. A doublet of deep blue with green etching was tossed haphazardly over his shoulders, underneath it, a brown shirt. He had black trousers and nice new shoes, a deep ruby red, with a golden buckle on either side. No horse smell, no hay, and no mud clung to these garments. They were new, and smelled like freshly-scythed grass, and rose oil. At last, he noticed the true appeal in this new place: A sword.  
  
Stuck in the ground at his side, a scant couple inches into the dirt, it was a real, true sword. Not a wooden training one, stopped up with lead, or even a run of the mill blade. It crackled with power, with the energy and wisdom of battles untold. Gleaming grey metal sparked in the strong sunlight, around the pommel and down the blade itself. The very tip of the handle was pointed and a lovely, shimmering, gold, and Sonic stood up, reaching his hand out to grasp it. Around his hand was a golden gauntlet, he hadn't even noticed it before, but felt like... It belonged there. It clung to his hand, not tightly, but snug, a well-worn garment. It was even worn in some places, like the palm, and pads of his digits. Gold detailing traced down the blade, and the steel poked out of a large, smooth metal circle, where the rain guard should be. Sonic frowned. _Shouldn't something... Be there? It looks so empty. Where's C-?_

He had no time to complete his thought. 

The Warmth and the Darkness and the Voice all receded from his mind, claws loosening, like terrible dark waves. Now Sonic saw them as they truly were, as they shrugged away the skins of friendliness and well-meaning advice. In his mind's eye, in a dream, he could see their true forms, ugly and terrible. Grotesque, shambling shapes arose from the mental marsh of his sickened stupor, rising out of the grass. Black, murky, and formless, Sonic couldn't seem to get his eyes to focus upon them. One by one, pieces of armor began to swirl and stick to them, though not in the right places. A helm jutted from the demon in the middle, the Darkness, the biggest of the trio. Shoulder pads stuck out, stark and shining, from the Voice's neck, and the Warmth had it's chestplate on crooked, to the point where Sonic could see through the armhole in the side. What they did have were mouths, horrible and pitch black in their color, with needle-like teeth that twisted into horrible grins. 

Sonic readied himself for the fight of his life, for now he knew what they were. Insidious little things that wormed into his mind, coaxing him into that good night that laid beyond his waking, living shell. Running a single finger down the fuller of the blade, he pulled the blade from the grass. It was a taxing motion, like the earth itself was desperate to retain it's ill-gotten weapon. A sharp tug dislodged it, but it felt as if he had run around Camelot's walls three times once he had it in his hands. It wasn't nearly as heavy as the 'swords' he trained with, and as he fell into his stance, both hands gripping the handle, the monsters paused.

The plains themselves seemed to hold their breath, and Sonic realized, so was he. He sucked in a dry breath that smelled and tasted of smoke, and when he opened his eyes again, the fields and monsters were gone.

* * *

Replacing the rolling green hills and the silvery, shimmering lake, was the room Sonic had been laid down to rest in. Lancelot's room, he reflected, recalling the earlier conversation that had graced his ears the previous day. Was it the previous day? With his head now feeling much clearer, Sonic cast his eyes around, looking at his surroundings. Dust was caked upon the upper reaches of a few curio shelves, long since picked bare by it's previous inhabitant. The blankets were luxurious, a silken coverlet on the top, with layers of wool and linen underneath. At the top was a bold quilt, stiched together with red and black bits of cloth. It was likely very expensive, and yet, it seemed... Unused, somehow. Almost like it had been put on the week prior, and not months or years ago. The pillows were stuffed with feathers, but Sonic had no desire to sleep any longer. A lit candle sat upon his end table, likely where he'd gotten the smoke smell in his dream. He looked to the rest of the room.

There was a desk propped against one corner, Sonic could see, with a chair pulled out like someone had merely gone away, and planned to return. The desk was littered with paper, wax, an inkwell and several writing quills, all untouched. Books leaned along the top, but had a coating of dust and even a web or two from some bold arachnid. Above the desk hung another red swath of fabric with a symbol embroidered upon it, though Sonic didn't know whose it was. It was a sword, cocked to one side, seemingly planted in the center of several wavy circles. Near the desk was a fireplace, which was lovingly tended into a small, cheery blaze, that warmed the room enough to the point where it wasn't cold. Really, Sonic could toss a couple blankets away and be quite cozy. His eyes meandered over the walls, catching several paintings of knights, which meant nothing to him. More fabric with the same symbol, embroidered scenes, it was nearly a lord's room. As he looked to the other side of the room, where more bookshelves sat, there was even a small table. And at this table was someone else.

"I wondered when you'd wake up," said the man. A stout fellow, grey with age, or maybe that was merely the color he was born with, was seated. Upon the table laid several bottles, all with some wild color inside, or some dried bits of this or that. Sonic swore one was filled with small eyes, and he didn't want to ask what they belonged to before they were put in there and sealed inside with cork.

"Yeah," Sonic said, cringing as his voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. He was parched, and the older man rose from his seat. He was a fox, wearing long robes that seemed to not entirely match his movements, fluttering like they had a mind of their own. A white stripe went over his head, and he had a scruffy look around his white muzzle. Sharp golden eyes looked the prone hedgehog over as he approached, and produced from his oversized sleeve: A waterskin. Sonic quirked an eyebrow at him, remembering the many potions he'd been made to drink prior.

The fox laughed a little, voice warm with amusement. "Water," he reassured the prickly patient, and Sonic relented, having a small drink. It was the best water he'd ever had, sloshing into his mouth and down his throat. He drained half the content in bliss, only stopping when his labored lungs made him pause to take a breath. Sonic licked his lips and wiped the back of his mouth, but the old man raised a finger. "Ah ah ah," he admonished lightly, wiggling his finger to attract Sonic's attention. The hog's eyes flicked up to catch a smirk on the fox's face. "Gently now. Don't give yourself another coughing fit, I've only now seemed to stabilize you," he said. He rumbled away, and Sonic lowered the skin. Now that he could speak, he had more pressing concerns.

"Thanks for the drink. And you are...?"

"Merlyn," replied the fox, standing at his table and rummaging through bottles. "The court wizard. Usually, it's below my duties to play babysitter," he admitted with a shrug, "but this is a personal favor to Lancelot." He breezed on before Sonic could ask a question. "How are you? Any better? Well, as you're awake I would think so," the old wizard admonished himself. "I'm not sure what did it, the aconite draught? The worm's wart?" Devolving into muttering, Merlyn rustled through his belongings. As the tiny vials and large, nearly mug-sized containers clinked together, Sonic sat up against the headboard. It was elegantly carved, and likely cost more money than Sonic had ever seen in his life.

In an attempt to steer the conversation back to somewhere useful, he cleared his throat. It was clogged, and sticky, and lent a rasping tone to his words. "Personal favor?" He asked, though it seemed to fall upon deaf, or perhaps uncaring large ears.

"Congestion! Yes, you've spent nearly two weeks in that bed, of course, you'd be-"

"Woah woah woah, back up your horse cart, two weeks?!"

Pausing in his rifling, Merlyn looked up. "Oh, yes. Two weeks. This is the best you've been since Lancelot departed."

Merlyn prattled on, likely about whatever he was making, as he combined bottles of liquid and pinches of this or that, but Sonic sank down in his bed. He felt guilty to have enjoyed it so much. _Two weeks...? Man, Tails and Charlie have gotta be worried. And Lance. Lance left and probably took everyone else with him._ The castle had seemed quieter, in his brief lapses of consciousness, and that was probably why. Everyone had gone to war. _He didn't want me to get sicker._ He couldn't ponder on this thought long. Merlyn trundled back over, passing Sonic a glass flagon.

"Drink this, if you would."

Determined to improve his mood and make the most of this situation, he sniffed at it. The liquid was a reddish color, burgundy almost, with black flecks swimming within it. Sonic couldn't see any eyes in it, but... "So, what is this?" He forced levity into his tone, trying to be excited. A real, actual wizard! Working magic right in front of him! "Wolfsbane? Frogsbreath? Fairy dust?"

Merlyn's expression was bewildered. "No? It's regular old spices, mixed in a tonic. It should make your nose run and clear out that nasty congestion in your lungs."

Sonic's entire demeanor deflated. Oh. "How long until I get out of here?"

The old apothecary tittered, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "Well, you seem much better today. Perhaps you stay in bed tomorrow and barring any life-altering catastrophes, we'll see about letting you walk around the next day."

Two more days in this bed? Sonic sighed. "Right. Thanks, Merlyn." He looked at the small bottle in his hand with reproach, thinking that he would rather go back to mucking stalls than drink this. The wizard had walked away again, towards the door. "You gonna leave me here to drink this?"

"Yes, please, I'm sure you can manage. I'm going to get some hot water to give you a warm compress and drive out the rest of that mucus. And perhaps bring enough to bathe, I'm sure you'd like one." The hedgehog took his attention away, building up the courage to actually swallow what amounted to a raw pepper. Just as he was about to down the bottle, Merlyn paused in the doorway. His voice was soft, nearly... Regretful. "Sonic, was it?"

The hedgehog paused, bottle barely touching his lip. "... Yeah?"

The old man's hand gripped the door handle with some amount of force, even though his tone was forcibly light. "You asked about this 'personal favor'. Lancelot and I had a reckoning, some years ago. It befuddles me as to why he cares about you like he does, but I hope that, if it is for the reasons I think... Keeping you here, despite what my ward says, may set us right again." His piece being finished, Merlyn quickly yanked open the door, and with a swish of his robes, he was gone. Vanished into the halls, and his secrets, and Lancelot's own past, with him.


End file.
